Two Souls Bound
by vasalysa
Summary: More challenges ahead for the 58th and their commanding officers, McQueen and Silver. Are they up to the task?
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: The names of all 'Space: Above and Beyond' characters contained herein are the property of Glen Morgan and James Wong, Hard Eight Productions and the Fox Broadcasting Network. These names have been used without their permission. All else is my own creation.

Rating: NC17 Language, violence and graphic sex.

Spoilers: None

Prequels: Blood and Souls

Author: Vasalysa, with many undying thanks to Geek.

2 Souls Bound

Chapter One

Hard, bright sunlight burned down onto the rocky scrub land, driving three men and two women under cover, seeking relief from the heat in a narrow six foot deep ravine. Red brown dust coated their uniforms, occasional spots revealing the fabric's true color, khaki brown on four and black on the last.

Wiping his brow and smearing the sweat into the dust, Lt. Colonel McQueen sighed, giving the others a quick look. Both the dark skinned St. John and Damphousse appeared to be dealing better with the heat than either of the other two lighter skinned Vansen and Hawkes. It was at times like these that McQueen regretted continuing to wear his black flight suit, but he was accustomed to the signature it gave him, the last Angry Angel of the Marine Corps.

Damphousse rolled her shoulders. "Colonel, this planet is a damned desert. I can't see the Chigs wanting to live here. Not if they're used to a more jungle environment."

Running a hand through his sweat-dampened hair, creating streaks of his natural white blond in the red brown dust, Colonel McQueen nodded. "I know. But Intel is positive that the Chigs have a base here on the planet." He quirked up the corner of his mouth, continuing with, "So, being the miracle workers that we are, we have to find it."

"Colonel." Vansen crouched under the meager shade of a nearby overhang, tucking her dust coated auburn hair over an ear. "The briefing... it was so sketchy. Doesn't Intel have any idea why the Chigs are interested in this planet?"

"No. All we know is that the Chigs keep sending transports here. There must be a reason. We're here to find out why." McQueen stretched, easing the kinks in his neck and back. "Remember that even though we think it's too dry for the Chigs, it's not for the AIs."

"Wonder how Silver and the others are doing?" Hawkes somehow managed to squeeze his six foot two frame under a small bush to shelter in its meager shade. Bringing his M-590 rifle down before him, he pulled the clip, frowning as he found sand in the mechanism. "Damn sand." He started blowing the sand out.

McQueen hid a grimace at the thought of his Marine wife of only thirty-two days finding the enemy first. He knew she was more than capable of dealing with anything that came up. After all, there are few things that worry a vampire at full strength. Alone, he had no doubt Lysa would destroy any Chigs or AIs she came across, in human or four-footed primal form. It was the fact she was not alone that would cause her problems. Trained to conceal her nature from an early age, she would not use her vampiric strength or abilities in the presence of the enemy if captured. As a result, she had an even nastier a history with the AIs than he did. Still, as her husband, he figured that it was his right to worry.

Giving her CO a quick look, Damphousse grinned, retying her hair. "They'll be fine, Hawkes. After all, you're the trouble magnet."

Beneath their feet, the ground shifted, causing them all to curse. The ground grew still after several seconds.

Shaking his head, St. John said, "That's the twentieth earth tremor in eight hours. This planet is not very stable, sir."

"I had noticed that," McQueen said dryly. He shrugged. "Nothing we can do about it except be careful. Let's keep moving."

With groans of protest, the four young Marines rose and started walking.

Hawkes frowned at St. John. "Leave it to you to count the damn things."

"Hey, with no Chigs or AIs in sight, I have to entertain my brain somehow."

Twelve hours north of their starting point, a pair of men and women, struggled across rough, uneven ground. Red brown dust clung to their khaki uniforms, coating revealed skin. Pausing for a quick look around, one of the women straightened, frowning as she looked over the surrounding countryside and retied her dust streaked hair. Cliffs and ravines showed clear evidence that the earth tremors escalated frequently into full blown earthquakes.

"Colonel," one of the men called out, shaking his head, revealing red hair under the dust. "I don't like this country."

"I don't blame you, Russell. It's raising my hackles." Silver crouched down, running her fingers through the disturbed dirt on the trail they currently followed. The trail wound half way up a hundred foot cliff, slowly heading up from the ravine floor where a stream struggled to trickle along. It would be a challenge to get across this terrain. A challenge her husband would enjoy under most circumstances. As she stood back up, Silver wished he was beside her now.

The other man shivered. "I have a bad feeling about all this." He fingered an identification tag around his neck showing a blond woman. His narrow face held uneasiness.

Tall and willowy, the blonde, hair tied back in a braid, rubbed her upper arm where she had hit it on a rock during a slip. "I agree, West. This place is bad news. So let's get the hell out of here."

"I'm with Finch, Colonel. Let's get out of here." West gave the narrow trail a sour look. "The sooner we're at the top, the sooner I'll feel better."

The ground shook, harder than they had experienced so far on this mission. As the tremor appeared to stop, Silver heard a continued rumbling coming from above. "Run!"

Running for their lives, the four Marines sprinted up the trail.

Trudging through the sand and heat, McQueen wished the sun would go down, despite knowing that the temperature would drop dramatically. His squad needed rest, but they had all wanted to continue on for another couple of hours.

The ground started shaking harder than before.

He stumbled to a halt, terror spearing through him. The terror changed into agony and he sank, unaware, to his knees, head thrown back in a silent scream. Mercifully, the pain vanished as suddenly as it had appeared. His panicked thoughts whirled around in his head. What had happened? Lysa was in trouble, big trouble. That meant the others as well. Where were they? Why had the pain disappeared? Was Lysa dead?

Frantically, he tried to extend his mental senses along the bond he shared with his wife, closing his eyes, hoping he could do it under such trying circumstances. So far, he had only done it on board the Saratoga. He reached out to her and touched the faint spark of her life-force. Relief flooded him. The relief changed to terror as pain radiated out from Lysa's life-force toward him. He pulled back, attempting to narrow the bond to just letting him know she continued to breathe.

"Sir! Sir!"

Vansen's voice penetrated his concentration and he collapsed as the pain found him, racking his body. With desperate speed, McQueen struggled to lock down the link between him and Lysa to the narrower stream. Sobbing from the effort, he felt his body relax at the sudden cessation of the phantom pain.

"Sir, what happened?"

"Silver, the others," he croaked with a mouth and throat gone dry. A canteen touched his lips and he sipped cautiously of the tepid water. He pushed the canteen away after several swallows. "Something's happened to them. I think they've been caught in the aftermath of the tremor."

"We need to go find them!" Hawkes looked around desperately as if he could spot the missing members of the squad.

"We don't even know where they are, Hawkes!" Vansen gripped his arm tightly, bringing him under control.

"I can find them." His voice sounded weak to his ears and McQueen forced himself to sit up, feeling the tremble in his arms as he did so. "The bond between me and Silver will allow me to find them."

"What happened, sir?" asked 'Phousse, crouched beside him with the canteen still in her hands. "You were walking along and then you just collapsed."

"I felt her... I felt Silver getting hit by..." He frowned, thinking. "A landslide, I think. It's not words or pictures, just feelings and sensations. I had the sensation that she was being tumbled over and over, struggling to reach someone else."

St. John moved into McQueen's sight, face impassive, only his eyes showing distress. "We better get moving then, sir. They were moving north from our LZ, while we've been moving southwest, so they're at least ten hours away, even at our best speed." He held out his hand to the colonel.

Taking the offered hand, McQueen scrambled to his feet. He cautiously felt along the bond, turning until it felt the strongest. "That way," he said, pointing north northeast.

Two hours later, the sun granted his earlier desire, sinking over the horizon, even as he silently cursed it for disappearing on him now that he needed its light. The weary group stumbled along for nearly an hour before McQueen reluctantly called a halt. Since they were in enemy territory, they couldn't use their lights and he didn't want someone getting injured in the darkness. He watched them sink down into the hollow that St. John had discovered by stumbling over it.

"Sir, you need to rest too." Vansen struggled to her feet, moving up to stand beside him. Lowering her voice, she said, "She'll need you rested, sir. You'll be no good to her if you're exhausted."

He shook his head slightly. "I can't yet. It's too raw right now."

"Sir?"

"I can feel her, Shane." He dropped the formality of their ranks, needing to speak to a friend. "She's alive, but she's injured. She's trying to keep the pain under control, but it spikes occasionally and gets through."

"What is she feeling?"

"Fear and worry." He absently rubbed his left upper arm as if it hurt.

About to ask him another question, Vansen saw him stiffen in the starlight. "Sir?"

"The fear intensified. She's clamped down on the bond. As if..." He chewed his lip, staring out into the night, his fingers digging into his arm.

"As if what, sir?"

"As if they've been found."

"Then it's more important then ever that you rest, sir." Daringly she invaded his personal space and loosened his hand from his arm. "Come on, sir. We'll find them, wherever they are. We'll rescue them no matter the odds."

Freeing his hand from hers, he lightly touched her cheek. "I don't deserve any of you, Shane."

"Yes, you do, sir." From her resting place, 'Phousse rose. "Any one who dares to care deserves to be cared for. You dared to care about us, a bunch of young recruits who had delusions of grandeur. You dared to care enough to help us live through odds most didn't. You've never stopped caring, sir." She took his left hand. "We know it, deep inside. It keeps us going. Now, let us help you rest, sir."

For a moment, McQueen resisted the steady pull 'Phousse gave his arm. He sighed and allowed her to pull him into the hollow. She led him over by Hawkes and tugged him downward. Onto his side, arm curled under his head, he settled into place, feeling 'Phousse rest her hand on his shoulder for several seconds. A crumb of comfort for a man who they knew would never ask for it.

Even knowing he needed to sleep, McQueen stared over Hawkes' head into the darkness as the stars slowly wheeled across the sky. In his heart, he cried out for his missing wife, wanting her beside him in the night. Silent tears ran down his cheeks as he waited for the chance to find her. He settled for trying to send his love through their soul bond.

Stumbling for the dozenth time, Silver cursed under her breath as the AIs dragged them across the countryside in the darkness, a bare sliver of a moon not helping the situation. The landslide had torn their rifles away, leaving them armed only with k-bars and pistols. They had been busy digging out West and an unconscious Finch when the AIs arrived.

Ahead of her, Russell limped along, the nasty cuts on his right leg temporarily patched by the AIs so he could travel. West staggered behind her, his broken right wrist hugged tight against his cracked or broken ribs. She had been able to get him to drink briefly before the AIs pulled them apart and could only hope he remembered to think of his body as healing in order to utilize the drink he'd had. Her own injuries appeared to be cracked ribs, cuts and bruises and a sprained left wrist. Risking a quick glance around, she saw Finch, still unconscious, slung over the shoulder of a Jasper model AI.

"Move it, human." The Morgana model shoved Silver's shoulder.

Recovering her balance, Silver growled low in her throat, but fought down the urge to destroy the AI. Years of training kept her in control of her vampiric abilities and she knew the odds were against her being able to disable all six AIs before they got a modem message off, revealing her to the AI community. They were already interested in her as a Marine colonel and a major in the highly secret Black Forces. The AIs didn't need to discover that she was a vampire in addition.

She could only hope that West understood why she didn't lash out at the AIs. Russell knew from previous experiences that she could only act as a normal human in circumstances like these. It would be as frustrating for West as it was for her, knowing that she could easily tear the intelligent machines apart, but she was constrained not to due to needing to keep her vampiric self secret.

Stumbling again, Silver felt the presence of her husband, even though he was far away and took comfort from the sensation of his love. Sending her own love back to him, she blocked off the pain, fear and worry into another compartment of her mind. Experience with lesser bonds, such as those she shared with Russell, St. John and Finch, allowed her to limit what went down the pipeline to McQueen and she knew she would have to pinch the bond to the breaking point if she wanted him to survive her upcoming ordeal. He would come to the rescue, her black knight, but it would take time. Time the AIs would use to advantage. A smile curved her lips as she thought about the fact that it was a good thing she had argued for 'Phousse to keep the radio, even though no one would be calling for another four days.

She heard the sharp hiss of pain as an AI jostled West. "Keep it moving, human."

"Then give us a light," snapped West.

False flesh hit real flesh with a crack and she heard West fall. "So feisty. We'll see if you are still so defiant when we've played with you a bit."

Silver darted to where West had struggled to a sitting position. "Now, Captain, I'm sure that the AIs would give us some light, if they thought there was a suitable reason for it. Such as, perhaps, getting to our destination sometime before the next ice age." She helped him onto his feet. "After all, the longer it takes us to get there, the longer it is before they get to torture the only Marines on the planet. I'm not too keen on that last part, but stumbling around in the dark isn't too much fun either."

"No, it's not." West squeezed her wrist as he straightened up. "I'm not sure what Command was thinking, sending four Marines down here."

The Morgana grabbed Silver's arm and pulled her roughly away from West. "None of that. Get moving."

When all three prisoners stumbled again seconds later, the Morgana gave an impatient sigh and turned on a flashlight.

The slim moon offered hardly more light than the stars, but McQueen pushed on, determined to gain as much ground as he could before he being forced to allow the others to rest again.

Hearing Vansen and 'Phousse laboring to keep up finally brought him to a halt. Pushing the two women to exhaustion would hamper his progress. He bowed his head to the inevitability of it and found a suitable resting area, a small cave. A quick check with his light and he ushered the two women followed by Hawkes and St. John. Settling in at the cave mouth, McQueen rested his rifle across his lap and stared out into the night.

The coughs and restless movements slowly died away inside the cave as he kept his vigil.

"Sir, she'll be fine."

McQueen nodded. "So will Finch."

St. John chuckled softly. "That girl will survive anything that nature or the AIs can throw at her. Same with Silver. I know the kind of punishment Silver can take. So do you, sir. She'll be expecting you to keep your head, no matter what."

"Tough to do."

"I know, sir." St. John sighed. "It's never easy, sir, caring for someone else. I've been forced to wait, hearing Finch scream the whole while, until we could move in together. I've watched both her and Silver tortured by the AIs and kept my mouth shut. How I don't know, only that I knew that was what Silver expected of me."

Shifting about on the hard ground, St. John was quiet for a moment. "With us being tanks and all, we just don't have the training to understand the finer points of emotions. I think part of the reason we were grown in tanks was for the purpose of handicapping us emotionally. Only, they forgot that we're still human, no matter how much they tinkered with our genes. We can learn caring and we can also learn how to show that we care. The three of us, Finch, Russell and I, we lucked out. Silver became our officer and she taught all of us tanks in the 112th, but the three of us especially. If we not so smart tanks can do it, sir, so can you. It takes trust, trust that the other person isn't going to laugh at you or scold you, but that they recognize what you're giving them. Sir, she does. I see it in her eyes every time she looks at you."

"I have a hard time showing her," admitted McQueen softly.

"She can see it in you. It's there in your words, your looks, your body language." St. John paused. "Sir, it's going to be hard when we find them. The AIs will most likely be torturing them, but we can't go in there half-cocked. We have to do it right. They're expecting us to save them."

"I know." McQueen bowed his head, wanting to cry out his despair.

"We'll do it, sir. Just plan it and we'll carry it out. Don't let what's happening to them trick you into moving too soon, sir."

"How do I block it, St. John?"

"The bond? I'm not sure that you can, completely."

McQueen's voice dropped to a whisper. "I don't think I can handle her being tortured. Not if I'm feeling it, too. The landslide was more than I'd expected. All encompassing. There's never been anything bad through the bond before. I... I don't know how to handle it."

"Remember whatever she told you about controlling the bond. I'm sure she's talked to you about it. Especially before we came on this mission."

The darkness hid his tears and McQueen was grateful for it. "A bit. Frankly, I was more interested in other things."

St. John chuckled. "Don't blame you." In a serious tone, he continued. "Whatever happens, you'll have to figure out how to use the bond yourself. I can't help you out much."

"You have a bond with her?"

"Yes. It's a bond that's developed over many years. Being a remal to a single vampire can lead to a tight bonding without ever doing a ceremony. But there's nothing conscious about it on our part. She can summon us, like she did on the 'Toga when you were hit by that cradle. I couldn't do it though." St. John shrugged. "I've wished I could from time to time, but I suspect that the need has never been great enough."

"You better get some sleep, St. John."

"Yes, sir."

McQueen sat, leaning against the entrance, the fingers of his right hand rubbing the spot where his wedding rings would normally sit. Both his rings and Silver's were on the 'Toga in the care of his long time friend, Glen Ross. The commodore had agreed to take the rings as a precaution and now McQueen was glad they had talked Glen into it. The AIs would not be able to use him against Silver. At least, he hoped that they were not up to date on who had married who in the Marine Corps. The last thing he wanted right now was an AI gossip columnist spreading the word.

He could see it now. 'Tank McQueen takes a Wife; Will the Second Time be the Charm? Silver's her Name.' The image made him shake his head, wishing he could chuckle about it, but he knew the seriousness of the situation.

The yellow sun threatened to peek over the distant mountains. Through the twilight, McQueen led his squadron, having rested and fed them. His own MRE he had wolfed down without a second's thought, far too distracted to concentrate on the awful taste. Five hours after McQueen had talked with St. John, the AIs started paying serious attention to Silver, the muted pain had sneaked through the bond, keeping him from sleeping. Beside him, St. John had moaned in his restless sleep, nearly waking the other three. Resting his hand on St. John had helped to quiet the Invitro and McQueen had wished someone had been able to help him. Nearly two hours had gone by before the pain had ceased. At unpredictable times, the pain returned, breaking into his brief three hours of restless sleep. Now that dawn approached, they would be able to make better speed than they had for the last three hours. He estimated that they had come a grand total of ten miles from the time of the landslide.

The terrain shifted from scrub land to rocky foothills six hours later. So far they had managed five hours of marching in the dark since the earthquake and another five hours of steady marching, even with breaks scattered throughout. He knew there were most likely at least another ten hours of marching ahead of them, and they would have to camp for the night somewhere. Running his team into the ground would serve no purpose. They had already managed nearly fifteen miles since waking.

Once they reached the bottom of a incline, he let them rest for five minutes. From the lack of pain, he knew the AIs were leaving Silver alone for the moment. That meant either they were torturing one of the others or something had diverted their attention. As much as he did not want any of his people tortured, he also did not want the AIs searching for him yet. He had to hope that Silver and the others could hold out until he could get there.

"Sir." Vansen looked up from the map they had received on the APC. "I think we have a problem."

McQueen closed his eyes briefly. "What is it, Vansen?"

"There's a river between us and where we're currently headed." As he moved over to crouch beside her, she continued speaking. "If Silver and the others made decent time, they should have been about here." She pointed to a spot on the map fifteen miles north of the marked landing zone. "Now that's a conservative distance, sir, since I know how Silver can push the pace. But anyway I look at it, sir, they crossed this river at some point." Her finger tapped the blue ribbon that snaked across the upper portion of the map.

"Any idea where they could have crossed, Shane?" asked Hawkes, using his binocs to scan the nearby hilltops.

"It's ravines and gorges through that area, Coop. They'd have to make their own crossing wherever they decided to. Problem is, we don't know where that is or how far along the river they went before crossing. I think it'll take us two hours to find a crossing once we reach the river, sir."

"Worse yet," remarked St. John, looking over Vansen's shoulder, "we're crossing down river from wherever they crossed. It's going to be wider or, worse if narrower, faster."

McQueen bit his cheek in an effort to keep from speaking sarcastically. "Very well. Once we reach the river, we'll find a way across. We have plenty of rope in our packs if we need to construct a bridge." Turning to the direction he knew his wife and the others were at, his hands tightened into fists. The AIs had returned to their 'work' and his jaw clenched. "We had better get moving while we still can."

The others exchanged looks and nodded.

"I'll take point, sir," volunteered Hawkes.

Tears blinded McQueen momentarily and, as he blinked them away, he nodded reluctantly. "North northeast, Hawkes." Roughly he wiped the tears from his cheeks.

The river crossing delayed them longer than Vansen's estimated two hours. Three and a half hours, a quick lunch, and seven miles from the spot where Vansen had pulled out the map, the river roared through a gorge forty feet below them, fast and furious, running to the northwest. Sparse undergrowth grew about the gorge, useless for attempting to anchor a rope long enough for even one person to get across.

Hawkes scanned the countryside to the east and southeast with his binocs as 'Phousse rubbed her shins and calves at his feet. "Anything, Coop?" she asked quietly.

"Not a thing. All we need are two trees."

"On opposite sides of the river," added St. John, from where he looked to the north and northwest. "No trees in sight, sir."

Vansen glanced at McQueen. "Sir, we could follow the river upstream. We'd find their crossing point eventually."

With a heavy sigh, McQueen nodded. "That's the best course of action."

Nearly three hours later, they found the rope bridge suspended between two sturdy trees. Getting them all safely across took almost a half hour with both St. John and Vansen nearly losing their grips.

McQueen had watched white-knuckled as they dangled over the raging river, ropes tied about their waists for dubious safety. A third of the way across himself, he staggered to a halt, transfixed by the spikes of pain seemingly originating from his kidneys. It took him long seconds to crush the phantom pain enough to finish the crossing. He ignored the questions from the squad, needing to concentrate on finding his footing and not getting distracted again. On the far bank, he resisted the urge to sink to his knees.

"Sir, we need a break." Vansen stepped up to him as Damphousse, the last of them, made her crossing. "This planet's days are just enough longer than we're used to that we're starting to feel exhausted."

"No, you're exhausted because I'm running you into the ground," admitted McQueen with a sad smile. "Don't mince words, Captain. I know it's what I'm doing. Look, night is less than four hours away. If we find a suitable campsite before then, we'll stop for the night. The entire night."

"If we don't, sir?"

"We'll make do for the night. Twelve hours of rest." He couldn't help glancing northward, following the pull of the bond.

"How... how is she..."

"Still alive. That's all I know."

"Don't worry, sir. We'll get her out of there." Vansen started to put her hand on his arm, but dropped it as Hawkes called out, "All right, 'Phousse. You made the best time across."

"It's all the gymnastics my mother insisted I take," grinned 'Phousse. "She said I had to do something physical to offset all the academics."

"Ten mike break. Use the time to eat a ration bar and drink some water," McQueen announced. He saw Vansen's satisfied nod and forced himself to sit down and follow his own orders.

They made camp three and a half hellish hours later. Up and down ravines and small gorges, following trails that petered out half way up or down, once forced to scale a small cliff where the earthquake had shaken away the trail. Halfway up the cliff face, McQueen nearly slipped off as the pain spiked again. He dug his fingers and boot tips into the cliff, hugging it as he fought for his balance, both mental and physical. Heaving a sigh of relief as the pain faded, he leaned his forehead against the stones briefly before reaching up for the next handhold. At the top of the cliff, Hawkes held out his hand and, after a second's hesitation, McQueen took it, gave him a stiff nod, and started trudging off in the direction he needed to go.

Their campsite for the night was a crack in a huge basalt upthrust they had been walking around. Hawkes had spotted the opening and, before anyone could stop him, he had darted inside. He had come out grinning, announcing that the crack opened up into a large cave after three feet, more than enough room for them all to stretch out and sleep.

"A fire, sir?" asked 'Phousse hopefully.

McQueen nodded and couldn't help being amused at the speed with which St. John had his Sterno can whipped out and lit. Hot MRE's were a lot better than cold ones, he admitted to himself. Slipping his pack off, he set it down in the rear of the cavern and sat down beside it. A yawn took him off-guard and he missed the looks Vansen shared with the others.

"I'll take first watch, sir," Vansen said quietly. "You didn't get much sleep last night, sir, so we'll give you one of the later watches."

"Wake me for the third watch." McQueen knew he wouldn't sleep through the twelve hours.

"Yes, sir."

From her tone, McQueen could tell she wasn't happy about his order. "Shane, I won't sleep through the night in any case. I rarely do."

"Yes, sir."

He dug through his pack and pulled out a MRE at random, tossing it to St. John. "I'll have that, sirrah, plenty of disgusting taste and little of real meat in it."

"Yes, sir," grinned St. John. He hung his old WWII helmet over the lit Sterno with water in it and piled the other MREs nearby.

Where the hell St. John had found a helmet from a war over a hundred years ago remained a puzzle to McQueen. Finch, Russell, and St. John had come to the unit with Silver nearly a year and a half ago. He still knew little about them. All three loved to sing, something Silver had taught them. Russell loved various types of music and was still educating Hawkes about something called rock and roll. The music sounded too raucous for his tastes. He preferred the classical music with its more structured styles. Finch and St. John were lovers, they enjoyed singing and classical music as well as folk and they were devoted to Silver as was Russell. Acting as a third from time to time with the other two, Russell had fallen for Silver's brother, Patrick, of all things a scotch whiskey distiller.

"Ok, St. John, I have to ask." Leaning forward to set her own MRE beside the others, 'Phousse smiled. "Where the hell did you get hold of a World War Two helmet?"

Chuckling, St. John said, "Would you believe a museum?"

"What?"

At the astonished looks, St. John laughed out loud. "Honest. I was on leave with Finch. We decided to stop in this city, don't remember the name, and saw this really neat museum. A sign hung on the door stating that items were for sale in the shop. All sorts of stuff was in there. Certain things were considered to be clutter and not of any importance anymore, so they were selling off the surplus. Finch bought herself a genuine dinosaur bone fragment. I found a World War Two pile of clutter, mostly American helmets. The desk clerk said that people had bought all the German ones within two hours of knowing they were there, but no one wanted the American helmets. I saw the possibilities for it immediately. I bought four. Two are back at the estate in our permanent quarters there, one's in my foot locker and the other I keep in my helmet." He rotated the helmet around, pointing to a small ding. "See that there? That bullet had penetrated my issued helmet. This stopped the bullet. It's kept me alive."

He dropped two MREs into the boiling water. "I've cooked in it, boiled bandages, made coffee, done a great many things in it when needed."

"Sounds like you certainly got your money's worth," remarked Vansen.

"Yes."

By the time the MREs were ready, McQueen was feeling his exhaustion. He sat, arms over his knees, hands hanging down, staring into the darkness, his mind mercifully blank for the moment.

"Sir," came 'Phousse's voice to his right.

He blinked and turned his head toward her slowly.

"Your dinner's ready."

"Thank you." He took the opened and prepped MRE from her.

He ate mechanically, too tired to care about it. Now that he was no longer moving, he just wanted to sleep. Finished eating, he set the empty packet aside and leaned his head back against the rock wall.

Vansen moved over and took the empty packet. "Sir, why don't you go to sleep? We have everything under control here."

Nodding, he pushed his pack over, stretched out on the not so smooth ground and used the pack as a pillow as he faced away from the fire. Oblivion reached out to him and he let himself sink into it, eager for the escape.

Vansen was shaking 'Phousse awake for the second watch when a gut-wrenching scream shattered the quiet. Even as the two women wrenched their heads around to the source of the on-going scream, St. John groaned, "Hawkes, hold him. He's feeling her pain. Wake him up. He can't control it in his sleep yet."

Shaking the sleep from his head, Hawkes stumbled over to where McQueen writhed on the rocky ground. He wrapped his arms around the flailing arms and the heaving chest as more screams poured forth. Fighting to hold the bucking body, Hawkes pinned McQueen to the ground, realizing how much strength was hidden in the lean, hard body as he was nearly dislodged. "Shane, I can't hold him for long. It's like holding onto a tornado. Wake him up!"

Vansen scrambled over and reached out to shake McQueen's shoulder. Realizing he wasn't waking up being held by Hawkes, she slapped his cheek hard. "Sir! Sir!"

Back arching, McQueen's head snapped back into Hawkes' face, still screaming. The blow dazed Hawkes, loosening his grip a fraction and McQueen twisted free as blood started flowing from Hawkes' nose. Rolling into the wall, McQueen slammed his head into the rocks. To Vansen's horror, he repeatedly bashed his head on the wall. Despite her desperate attempts to stop him, he did continued to do it, hitting his head against the floor when she pulled him away from the wall.

"Let him," St. John croaked. "He's trying to stop the pain. If he's unconscious, it'll stop."

Aghast, Vansen continued to protect McQueen's head until 'Phousse reached over, taking hold of her hands. The ear-splitting screams continued non-stop. "Shane, he's trapped in there. We can't break him out of it. Let him go. We'll deal with the results."

"I can't let him hurt himself." Vansen's eyes were filled with tears.

"The sooner he's out, the sooner he's free of the pain, the less the damage will be. Come on, Shane."

With a sob, Vansen threw herself away from McQueen. Two more hits and he sank into silence and general stillness, his chest laboring to breathe, his limbs trembling.

Using a rag, 'Phousse dabbed at the blood trickling from the cuts on McQueen's scalp and face. "St. John, I could use some of that..." Her voice trailed away as she looked up at him and saw St. John lay shaking on the ground. "Oh, God, you're feeling it too!"

He nodded jerkily. "My bond isn't as strong. The AIs are really working her over. She must have really pissed them off. It's the worst yet. Thank the Creator they chose a mid-level bond. He'd be uncontrollable if it were a high level bond."

Pinching his nose closed, Hawkes moved over to the Sterno can and struggled one-handedly to light it. Vansen shook herself and took the lighter from Hawkes and lit the Sterno to heat the water left in the helmet.

"That's what he's been feeling and hiding all day?" Vansen didn't look at either St. John or McQueen, staring at the fire.

"Yes. So have I to a far lesser degree. It's been like a muscular ache most of the time. This... this was serious. I've never felt her like this before."

"Why didn't you act like this before? Like when we went to rescue Silver the first time?" Dipping the rag in the tepid water, 'Phousse paused in her ministrations. "Coop, lie down."

As Hawkes stretched out on the ground, St. John said, "It wasn't until later, after we got back that she started using the bond again with us. Before that, she had pretty much shut it down."

"Why isn't she doing that now?" accused Vansen.

"What makes you think she hasn't?" challenged St. John. "What he's getting is just an echo of what she's going through. A tenth, maybe a fifth of what she's enduring. I've been there. I've seen the torture. I've endured it. So has he. Between what she's going through and what he has personally gone through, his body knows what's happening. Sleep lowered all of his conscious protection from the pain."

"But he needed to sleep."

"Yes. And it was a risk. We both knew it." St. John shuddered violently. "Oh, yes, she's pissed them off royally. That's my Silver."

'Phousse reached out and stroked his forehead. "Rest if you can. We're here."

"That's all that makes this endurable." St. John closed his eyes and put his head down.

"Shane, take care of Coop. He's bleeding all over the place." Rewetting her rag, 'Phousse turned her attention back to her superior.

An hour later, St. John slept again, the pain through the bond having subsided.

McQueen groaned softly, a hand going to his head. He opened his eyes, confused by the feel of someone's thigh under his head and the pounding headache he had.

"Easy, sir." A soft hand stroking his sore forehead accompanied 'Phousse's voice. "We're taking care of you."

"What happened?" He started to sit up but she held him down.

"No, stay down, sir. You didn't give yourself a concussion, but it wasn't because you weren't trying." She allowed him to roll onto his back and she smiled gently down into his confused sapphire eyes. "They started torturing Silver while you slept."

Closing his eyes, he shut out the understanding in her eyes, turning his head away. "I had hoped it was just a bad dream."

"You woke up screaming, sir. We tried to wake you, but we couldn't. Hawkes had difficulty holding onto you. You broke free and started hitting your head on the wall and the floor. I... we finally let you knock yourself out." Vansen's cool, clipped tone barely disguised the pain in her voice.

Looking at Vansen, McQueen could see the pain reflected in her eyes. It had to have been hard for her to allow him to beat himself into unconsciousness. Softly, half afraid to explain, but driven to, he said, "I was trapped in the pain. I was helpless, unable to help her, frustrated at my helplessness. There was nothing I could do and I couldn't keep enduring it. I needed oblivion."

"Why hasn't she worked with you on this bond thing?" snapped Vansen.

"Who says she hasn't?" he snapped back. His head pounded and he sighed. "Look, Shane, it isn't her fault. She's been pushing me to work on it more often. I haven't been doing the exercises she gave me." He saw the quickly concealed startled look from Vansen. "Yes, I was deliberately not doing them. They're hard, mental work and I prefer spending our time doing other things."

Vansen blushed, looking away briefly at the thought of what the other things were.

"So, what I'm experiencing is partly my own damned fault. Which increases the frustration I feel over it even more. I could control it if I had done the exercises." McQueen sighed. "Sometimes it doesn't pay to be stubborn."

"Or convinced you already know it all," sighed 'Phousse, her hand gently massaging his tight shoulder.

"That too. When we get out of this, I'll practice every night or whenever she wants. This is agony to go through. Suffering someone else's pain." He put his arm over his eyes.

"I know it's tough, sir, but you made a commitment." Her hand now on his chest, 'Phousse said, "You knew you were getting more than a woman when you married her. You need to remember she knows more about what she is and what is necessary to live with her than you do."

Dropping his arm, he smiled sadly at 'Phousse, focused on her and the fact she seemed almost empathic in her ability to figure out other people's emotions. He found it easy to let down his guard with her. "It's not that I don't know it. I do. Every day I am confronted with the fact that my wife is a vampire. A creature of legend among humanity. That I've married into a vampire clan. She accepts me for who and what I am. She isn't looking to turn me into some other person."

"And it scares you that she does care so much." Nodding, 'Phousse said, "Love is scary, sir. I think it is the scariest thing in the universe to have to deal with. But if you have the courage to face it, it has the greatest rewards."

"Yes." His eyelids refused to stay open, suddenly weighted with lead.

"Go to sleep, sir. We're here."

As sleep slipped over him, McQueen concentrated on an exercise to virtually shut down the link between him and Lysa. He would reactivate it in the morning, he hoped.

Twice more during the night, McQueen thrashed in his sleep, trapped, but never waking or screaming again. He woke to Vansen's gentle touch to the shoulder, rolling onto his side away from her. Blinking he brought her into focus.

"Sir, your breakfast. We'll be ready to move out in twenty mikes." She handed him his food and backed away.

"Thank you." He ate quickly, seeing that the others were mostly done. "What's the weather like?"

"Looks to be a bright sunshiny day," groused Hawkes by the entrance.

Spotting the swelling of Hawkes' nose, McQueen frowned. "How did... Did I do that, Hawkes?"

Hawkes dropped his gaze to the rock floor. "You didn't break it, sir, just bloodied it."

"Hell. Wasn't much of a restful night for anyone, was it?" McQueen speared some mystery meat out of the packet, grimacing.

"We got enough sleep, sir. We feel rested and able to continue. What about you?" Vansen sat on the far side of the Sterno fire.

"A bit achy, a splitting headache, but basically fine."

"Can you lead us to them?"

Pausing in his eating, McQueen worried out the link and almost sighed on finding it still strong. He nodded.

"Then when you're ready, sir, we'll head out."

After six hours of hiking, the sprawling single story building came into sight and they quickly hid from view. On their stomachs, the group surveyed the surrounding area.

McQueen grimaced, studying the building. He'd spotted at least five entrances so far and they hadn't even walked half way around it. Three of the entrances appeared to be in disuse, the planet's version of grass growing thickly before the hexagonal openings. The grass barely survived before the other two. Not a Chig or an AI was in sight, yet black smoke belched forth from a smokestack every so often, so someone was there, working some sort of machinery. Why he didn't know. The building did not look like the one on Kazbek where the Chigs had been mining, but he couldn't think of what they could be doing on this desolate rock if not mining. The few windows opened onto barren rooms, no furnishing, nothing.

"Shall we keep circling, sir, or shall we try for an entry here?"

"Keep moving. She's not on this side."

Ten minutes later, he froze in place, head turned toward the building. "Here."

Hawkes had his binocs out and started scanning the building. "There," he breathed. "I can see her..." His voice trailed away.

McQueen didn't remember grabbing his binocs and throwing himself down onto the rocky ground. Desperate for the sight of his wife, he moved the binocs quickly along, scanning empty window after empty window until... He swallowed down the bile rising in his throat and forced himself to study the room around her naked, bloody body suspended from the ceiling. To the side, he saw the beaten, naked remaining members of his squad: West, his face twisted with pain, hatred and anger, twisting futilely at his bonds; Finch slumped in her shackles; Russell lunging against his bonds, hatred evident in every fiber of his body.

The object of the two men's hatred stood on the far side of Silver, an Elroy model. This one had seen better days and needed some major cosmetic work, McQueen noted, scowling at the AI. Beside the Elroy stood a Morgana model, her auburn hair tied back, revealing a missing patch of skin on her neck.

"Hawkes, can you make the shot? Can you take out the Elroy?"

"What about the Morgana unit?" asked Vansen.

"Your task, Captain. Right through the middle of the head. Hawkes?" He saw Silver flinch even as pain snapped at him.

"It's going to be tricky, sir. She's directly in front of him." Hawkes knelt, bringing his rifle to his shoulder. For a few seconds, he studied the scene through his scope, finally growling in frustration and throwing himself down onto the ground. "Let me know when you're ready, Shane."

"Right." Having the less difficult shot, she acknowledged the fact she would be waiting on his signal to fire. Down on the ground herself, Vansen took her time to find the window and bring her rifle to bear on her target, the center of the Morgana's head. "Ready."

"On my mark. Ready..." Hawkes took a deep breath, letting it out quickly. "Damn. Ready... Ready... Mark."

The two rifles spoke as one and McQueen saw both AIs jerk and shudder before falling to the ground. At a dead run, the entire squadron bolted for the building. Hawkes threw himself through the window, rolling onto his feet and snapping a few more shots off into the AIs. On his tail came St. John, vaulting in, landing on his feet and rushing over to where the controls for the rope holding Silver up were. McQueen scrambled through the opening with the two women right behind him.

Coming around the front of Silver, McQueen caught his breath at the cuts, blood, bruises, and burns that covered her body. "Lysa," he said softly, reaching up to take her weight off her bloodied wrists.

Her eyes opened, grey with the pain, but she smiled briefly. Dropping her head so her forehead hit his, she growled, "You...are...going...to...practice. Bloody feedback loop with you not controlling your end."

"Yes, Lysa. I've already determined I am going to." He couldn't help grinning at her. When her still bound wrists dropped down over his head, he held her upright until someone could release her cut and bruised ankles. "I'm sorry if I made it harder on you."

She pulled his head forward and kissed him hungrily. Letting her head drop onto his shoulder, she said, "Knowing you were coming kept me going. They've learned a few things since last time. St. John, be careful with Finch. She hasn't regained consciousness since the slide. She's badly hurt. I'll do what I can for her, but I'm not in the best of health right now myself."

As her whole body started shaking in his arms, McQueen sank to his knees, holding her tight. St. John released her wrists and she wrapped her arms around her husband's chest.

"Russell, how bad are you?"

"Not bad enough for the AIs." Russell wrenched his hands free once the shackles were barely loose enough and crouched beside McQueen, his fingers brushing Silver's cheek. "We'll make it safe for you, Silver. Soon. Hang in there." He turned his bruised face to McQueen. "May I borrow your rifle and k-bar? I have some unfinished business to attend to."

"Yes."

Vansen stood near the doorway as both St. John and Russell approached. "Now wait a moment. We have injured to take care of."

"We have to make sure nothing about her is recorded here. Every AI has to die, every record has to be destroyed, every surveillance shot wiped, before it is safe for her." Russell, who normally did not challenge Vansen, stood on his feet, swaying. "Now, either help us or help the others. West has a broken wrist and broken ribs."

For a second, Vansen stayed in the doorway. "Hawkes, go with them."

"Yes, ma'am." Hawkes' mouth was set in a grim line as he stalked out into the corridor.

As Vansen and 'Phousse released him, West paled and nearly fell, his broken wrist swollen and discolored. "Get Finch down, Shane." He leaned against the wall with 'Phousse's help. "I'm ok for now."

"What the situation?" McQueen asked as he shifted to sitting, holding Silver in his lap.

"It's a mining facility, sir. More of that ore AeroTech is so eager to get their hands on. It's been really weird, sir. The Chigs never even looked at us. In fact, I haven't seen a single Chig, but they are here. The AIs were pissed off because the Chig mine supervisor didn't let them leave on the last transport. They were taking their anger out on us. We convinced them that only the four of us were here, on a routine patrol. They were hard to convince. They kept wanting to know why she was here if it was a routine patrol. She told them she had been assigned to the 58th as a punishment since the squad had been dishonored by the peace talks. I think they finally bought it. Especially after when they asked about the radio, we told them Finch had been carrying it and it was most likely buried under tons of rocks. They wanted to know when the transport would be arriving and we told them that it wouldn't. That members of the 58th were in such disgrace that rescues were not performed for them. They got really mad then. They had wanted to hijack the transport and leave." West coughed and he wiped his good wrist across his mouth, smearing the blood on his skin. "They worked her over good, but didn't neglect Russell or me. Hurting Finch turned out to be no fun so they gave up on her."

The woman in his arms had stopped shaking. "Bring Nathan over here," she said, in a voice roughened by far too much screaming.

'Phousse and Vansen helped West over next to McQueen.

As if every movement hurt, Silver brought a wrist to her mouth and cut it with a tooth. "Drink, Nathan. Several deep swallows." As West drank, she added, "Tell your body to route out the infection in the broken bones, to stop the bleeding in your lungs." Pulling her wrist away and licking it, she reached out with her other hand and stroked the injured young man's forehead. "Close your eyes. Concentrate on what I've told you."

West's breathing slowed and his body relaxed.

"Move him back by the wall. He'll wake in a few mikes. Bring me Finch."

McQueen turned Silver's head toward him. "Lysa, you can't give up enough blood to heal them. You need healing too."

"He was the hardest, love. Finch and Russell are used to drinking my blood. Their bodies are used to utilizing its benefits. He is not. Just like you haven't become used to it either. It takes time." She kissed him again. "It's ok. I'm nowhere near as bad off as the last time you rescued me. When everything is cleared, I can go hunt. No broken bones this time." She chuckled. "This is getting to be a habit, rescuing me."

Vansen and 'Phousse held Finch, her body cut and badly bruised, in a sitting position beside Silver. "Any idea what's wrong with her?" asked Vansen, her hand caressing the limp blonde hair.

"Not sure. Concussion, internal injuries. I just don't know. She was buried under a lot of rock so she took some pretty bad blows." Cutting her wrist again, Silver pressed it to Finch's lips. "Ok, love, drink. You know what it is. Drink. Ok, that will do. Heal, Finch."

With a sigh, her wrist closed up again, Silver settled back against McQueen. "Good to see you, by the way."

"And you." He stroked his hand across her dirty, matted hair, ignoring the blood, holding her, glad she still lived.

Russell came back in. "Ok, we took care of the six AIs left. Everything that looked like it might record is destroyed."

"Come here, Russell."

"I'm ok, Silver. Keep it for yourself. In fact, I'll give you some. I'm not the one that's been beaten and burned." Russell knelt and bared his throat.

McQueen could see the hunger in her eyes as she said, "No, Russell. You need to heal. If everything's been destroyed then I am free to hunt."

"Is there anything to hunt?" asked Hawkes, entering the room as Russell sat back, dismayed.

"Yes. I saw small animals scurrying around near the landslide. I should be able to find suitable prey."

When she started to move in his arms, McQueen tightened his hold. "Not yet."

"Ty..." She cupped his cheek, rubbing her thumb over his cheek bone. "It's not necessary."

"Yes, it is." He looked at Vansen, unable to ask, but hoping she would understand.

"Russell, St. John, Hawkes. Find something to use as a stretcher for Finch." Vansen pushed the three out of the room and gestured for West and 'Phousse to follow her into the corridor.

"Ty, you're such a stubborn ass sometimes."

"Tell me about it." He kissed his wife's forehead and sighed. "Drink from me, Lysa. You need the strength."

"You just want the high it gives you," she grinned briefly. As he ducked his head with a smile, she chuckled, the laugh turning into a bloody cough. "Ok, Ty. Just a bit."

He tilted his head back, baring his throat and felt her breath on the exposed flesh. Closing his eyes, he waited, feeling her lips brush his throat and then a soft sigh escaped him as her fangs sank into him. Pleasure sang throughout his body, hiding the fact she was drinking his blood. Four, five swallows and then she licked his throat, letting him come down gently.

"Ok, Ty, now just hold me."

"Yes, bossy." Smiling, he rested his chin on the top of her head and waited, holding her tight to him. Several minutes passed before she pushed gently away from him and he let her. "Better?"

"Yes. Thank you. Though you didn't need to do it."

"Now who's being stubborn?" He raised an eyebrow with a grin.

"All right. I just don't like drinking from folks just because I'm a bit banged up."

"A bit banged up?" He gave her battered, burned, bloodied body an incredulous look. "So at what point are you willing to accept blood? Death's door? If we offer it, you should accept."

"But I have to know when not to, love. I don't want to hurt you inadvertently."

"You won't." He started to shift his weight in order to get up, still carrying her.

"You'll hurt your back, Ty."

Knowing she was right, he still hesitated, wanting to protect her. With a reluctant sigh, he slid out from under her, crouched, and helped her stand up. Her arm around his waist and his around hers, he steered her toward the doorway. "What happened to your flight suit?"

"Cut off. Fortunately there was nothing in it I can't replace. Our packs were all torn off during the landslide. Lost everything but our pistols and the k-bars, which, of course, the AIs took away."

In the corridor, Vansen and 'Phousse were talking. The captain looked up at McQueen. "Sir, as much as I want to call the transport in, we're sitting on top of a Chig installation. We have to vacate the area before we risk the call."

"Yes." He shifted Silver against the wall. "Did anyone bring spare flight suits?"

Everyone had and after some juggling around of uniforms, three of the former prisoners once again mostly resembled Marines. Replacement boots was out of the question, which McQueen knew would slow them down even more than the injuries. In desperation, he had Hawkes cut one of the emergency blankets into strips and used the strips to wrap West's and Russell's feet.

Silver took one of the emergency blankets, wrapping it around her torso with difficulty. "I won't need it for long. Once we're clear of the immediate area, I'll change."

He gave her a sour look, but nodded. It didn't make sense to clothe her only to have her undress within a half hour or so.

It took them nearly an hour to make a single mile. West and Russell were in far worse shape than they had let on and the emergency blankets shredded within half a mile. Bloody footprints soon marked their trail. Silver hadn't even waited the half hour he had supposed. Once out of the building's immediate sight, she had changed into her primal form, four footed and faster. After nuzzling his hand with her muzzle she had vanished into the surrounding countryside, hunting.

Despite the close proximity to the Chig mine, McQueen was forced to stop. West and Russell collapsed to the ground, wordlessly, wincing as various injuries made themselves known again.

Hawkes and St. John approached McQueen. "Sir, we could go back and see if we can find their boots."

Resolutely, McQueen shook his head. "No. We don't know when the Chigs will discover that the AIs are destroyed. It could be next week or ten mikes from now. We'll just have to keep going as best we can. Cut more strips and put more inside under their feet as a cushion. That might help."

"Quartermaster is going to be pissed with us." Hawkes shook his head as he sat down to cut a blanket up.

They made two miles in the next hour and a half, with frequent stops to repack the makeshift shoes. As Hawkes and St. John were cutting strips and Vansen and 'Phousse were packing the strips, Silver returned, walking on two feet, limping. She took the flight suit McQueen handed her and slipped it on before crouching before West.

"Nathan, you need to drink some more. Come on." Silver held her slowly bleeding wrist to his mouth. "Just like before." As he slowly drank, eyes closed, Silver felt his forehead, frowning at the heat his skin gave off. "Ok, that's good, Nathan. Lie back, just relax. Think of healing, your body whole and healthy. Keep thinking it over and over."

Russell drank from her wrist and settled back against the rock behind him with a sigh.

Rising, Silver staggered as her stiffened leg didn't want to hold her weight. McQueen caught her and sat her down beside him. "Rest yourself, Lysa. We'll stay put for ten mikes or so. Give everyone a chance to eat and drink."

"Eat?" West cracked open an eye. "Oh, that would be nice. Haven't had anything since before the landslide." His eye closed again.

"What?" Vansen jerked her head up, aghast. "You haven't eaten for two days? What about water?" On seeing both West and Russell shake their heads, she immediately stopped what she was doing and started going through her pack.

Silver shook her head at the offered ration bar and water packet. "I've already had both. In my other form, I can drink from sources you can't. Give it to them. They need it. You might be able to coax some water down Finch." She laid her head down on McQueen's leg and closed her eyes.

They made better time, managing nearly three miles in the next hour. McQueen told 'Phousse to go ahead and contact the Saratoga, requesting a transport. He spent the hour until extraction tense, waiting for discovery. It was with a sense of relief that he helped Silver aboard the ISSAPC.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: The names of all 'Space: Above and Beyond' characters contained herein are the property of Glen Morgan and James Wong, Hard Eight Productions and the Fox Broadcasting Network. These names have been used without their permission. All else is my own creation.

Rating: NC17 Language, violence and graphic sex.

Spoilers: None

Warning: Sex, Language.

Author: Vasalysa, with many undying thanks to Geek.

2 Souls Bound

Chapter Two

Escorting his wife on her release from Sickbay back to her quarters three days later, McQueen fidgeted in the elevator, eager to get her alone where he could show her how much he loved her.

"Ty."

He glanced over at her and found her wrapping her arms around him, kissing him hungrily. For a split second, he hesitated on returning it, knowing the elevator could stop and reveal them to view, but he threw caution to the wind and returned the kiss. Her hands caressed down his back and he moaned, wanting her now.

The elevator dinged and they pulled apart before the doors opened. Walking down the narrow corridor, McQueen slipped his hand onto her waist, no longer afraid to show she belonged to him. At her quarters, he keyed in the code to unlock the door and waited impatiently as she went in first.

"Ty!" she laughed, going straight for the origami flowers on the dresser. "Such a closet romantic." Her fingers touched the colored paper flowers surrounded by the few pictures she had. One was her fourteen year old daughter, Cassie, dressed in her usual jeans, her blonde hair so unlike her mother's wrapped around a hand. Another picture of Cassie showed her in a full length emerald green dress, her hair styled and coiled on her head, a mischievous grin on her face. Beside the two of Cassie stood one of McQueen and her in their dress blues. She reached out to the picture of her and McQueen, smiling. "Hard to believe you've only been married a bit over a month, isn't it?"

"Only a month?" He stepped up behind her, his mouth descending on her neck to kiss and lick the revealed skin. "Thirty seven days to be exact, Lysa, thirty seven days of being able to love you without feeling guilty."

Reaching back, she caressed his jaw, not stopping his busy tongue and mouth. "The last three days have been hard on you, haven't they?" She could feel his erection pressing against her as he shifted slightly, pulling her back into him.

"Damn hard. Trying to work, knowing you were in Sickbay, wanting to be with you... Lysa, I don't know how the hell we're going to make this work." He groaned as she turned around in his arms, her hands cupping his buttocks and squeezing, pulling him firmly against her. "I want you so badly."

"We'll make it work, love. Right now, shall we work on relieving your tension?" Her hands ran up his back to his shoulders and she kissed him, her body molded to his.

"Yes, please," he moaned, his hands roaming over her back. "It's been so frustrating with Dr. Jade insisting that I couldn't hold you or touch you while in Sickbay."

"She's a good doctor. Give her some time to settle in." Silver gave him another kiss before saying, "Let me see that handsome body, Ty. Let me see what kept me going."

"Sit down then." He pushed her toward the bed, still astonished at the fact that somehow Glen Ross had managed to find a real bed, a queen sized one at that, and have it put into Silver's quarters. The loss of floor space wasn't as bad as it would have been in his quarters and their first night back on the Saratoga after the wedding had been far more blissful than either of them had anticipated. "Let's get those boots off, Lysa."

Once her boots were off, he quickly removed his own and stood before her within arms reach at parade rest, knowing full well that his arousal was evident. He unfastened the wrists of his flight suit before slowly pulling the zipper down, deliberately spreading the two halves to the side, revealing the white turtleneck he wore underneath. Shrugging the flight suit off his shoulders, he allowed it to slide down his arms and fall to his waist. With a quick move, the turtleneck was shed and tossed over to the nearest chair, leaving his scarred chest bared.

The flight suit with a nudge fell to the deck and he kicked it aside. He lifted one of his long, muscular legs up onto the bed beside Lysa and leaned over to start removing the sock. The touch of her fingers on his ankle made him catch his breath as she ran her fingers down under the sock and slowly eased it down over his heel, her mouth kissing the inside of his knee. When he put the other foot up, she repeated the act, almost making him discard his plan. Breathing hard, he stood up again, sliding his fingers under the waistband of his shorts.

Before he could start to lower the shorts, she was mouthing him through the fabric. His head fell back as she held his hands in place and continued to torture him with the delicious feel of her mouth on his hard cock. "Lysa," he managed raggedly a moment later.

"Am I distracting you?" She tugged the shorts down an inch or so to lick the top of his erection, making him moan and tremble with need.

"Yes," he gasped.

"Good."

"Lysa-" Another lick followed by a light suck made him forget all words. He entangled his fingers in her hair and, much against his desire, lifted her head from the wonderful sensations she was creating. "Let me finish, please, Lysa."

Her hand sliding up under the shorts and kneading his testicles, she tilted her head up, grinning reminding him where her daughter got it from. "Sure?" she asked as he groaned again.

"Yes," he managed.

A last pat and she withdrew her hand, sitting back, admiring the handsome body before her. Fading scars covered the lean form of her husband and she loved each and every one of them. His breathing back under control, she enjoyed watching him as he slowly lowered the khaki shorts, revealing the hard shaft, pre-cum already dripping from the lovely head. He let the shorts drop, his hands sliding around to bracket his hard cock.

"Do you like what you see?" he asked huskily.

"Oh, definitely. Is it on the menu?" She gave him a lustful grin before licking the drops off his cock. When he moaned, she sat back. "Now what, love?"

"Now I undress you."

"I think I like this plan of yours."

He crouched and took her hand, sliding a hand down the length of her arm. While unfastening the flight suit wrist, he licked her palm and fingers, giving loving attention to each. Once the first wrist was done, he did the same on the other side. Running both hands up her arms to her shoulders, he brought them down her front to the top of the zipper which he lowered to mid-abdomen. He moved up against the bed between her parted legs and kissed her thoroughly, his hands sliding the flight suit off her shoulders and down her arms to lie on the bed. Still kissing her, he caressed the bare bruised skin of her abdomen, sending shivers of desire through her.

A moan escaped her and she buried her fingers in his short hair, not releasing him from the kiss. As his hands slid under the tank top to push her bra out of the way, she arched up into his hands, her nipples hardening. Panting for breath, he broke the kiss and started nuzzling down her throat, her hands still in his hair, while pulling her bra and tank top up far enough to remove completely. He had to drag it off her arms and with a grim smile he tossed it aside.

"Remind me to clean up later," she murmured.

"We'll clean up later. Much later." His mouth shifted to one of her nipples while a hand kneaded the other one, careful not to irritate the healing burn streaked across it. "You're still beautiful, Sa," he murmured, knowing why it was her nickname after a month of married life. Like Ty, it was a lot easier to say in the throes of passion.

"You're absolutely delicious, Ty. I could eat you forever." Her hand stroked along his jaw.

After lavishing attention on her other breast, he gently pushed her back so he could continue undressing her. The zipper arrived at the bottom of its run and he slid his hands under her to ease the shorts and flight suit off her hips. The healing welts under his fingers made him want to kiss them, but he resisted the temptation to roll her over, not wanting to put pressure on the mostly healed internal injuries.

Kissing his way down to the hollow of her hip, he lightly ran his hands down her legs, freeing them of the flight suit and shorts, giving her complete freedom. He growled as he found that patches of her gorgeous red-brown pubic hair that he loved to wend his fingers through had been yanked out and he kissed the bare spots, feeling the roughness of new growth already started. Further down his mouth went to the wet center of her body and he used his tongue to caress her.

As he continued paying lavish attention to her, she started to twist and pant, building up rapidly. He flicked his tongue over her nub rapidly, then sucked on it, hard, making her moan. Two fingers slid into her depths easily and he started thrusting with his fingers in rhythm with his tongue. The muscles around his fingers tightened and, with a long shudder, she came. He lapped up her juices from his fingers and kissed his way up to her mouth, his body now over hers..

"Feeling better, love?" he asked

"Yes, but I know what will make me feel even better." Her hands caressed his hard length, fingers teasing the slit in the head. "But first. Fair's fair." She shoved him onto his back.

"Lysa, I wanted to..." Her mouth swallowed the head of his cock and his words dissolved into a low, needy moan as her tongue swirled around it and her teeth gently ran over the sensitive skin beneath. His hips bucked up into her mouth and she took the entire length without hesitation. As he thrust wildly into her mouth, he felt her hand kneading and rolling his testicles making him even hotter. With a sharp cry, he climaxed.

Sucking him dry, she continued to knead and roll his testicles, her fingers lightly scraping the skin behind them. He moaned. "Lysa, I want to be in you."

"That's where I want you, love. Just a sec though."

She sucked on his cock head, her tongue dipping down into the slit, and he flung his head back, the sensation almost more than he could bear. Then before he could even register her releasing him, she mounted him and he shuddered with the intense pleasure the sensation sent through him. "Yes," he breathed.

Thrusting up into her, he held onto her hip with one hand and kneaded her least bruised breast with the other. "I love you, Lysa Silver McQueen."

"I love you, Tyrus Cassius McQueen." Smiling she quickened the pace.

Soon her riding him was not enough for him and he flipped her over onto her back. He thrust into her, trying not to go too hard.

She wrapped her legs around his waist and said, "Go for it, Ty. Hard and fast."

"The doctor said-" He froze, looking down at her.

"You're not screwing her. I know what I need. I need _you_, now, hard and fast. As hard and fast as you can, love." She caressed his cheek and jaw.

"But-" Jade had been quite adament that any lovemaking be not overly vigorous and that had been his plan. He gazed down into her passion-filled emerald eyes and felt his resolve waver.

"Ty, now. I need you now." She pulled his head down, her kiss hungry and needy.

With a groan, he thrust into her deeply. It felt so good to do it that as they continued to kiss, he let his body go on automatic, knowing he would be pounding into her as hard and fast as she wanted in no time. Unlike other natural born women who could be injured by a male Invitro going full bore, Lysa's being a vampire enabled her to enjoy him at an intensity he had never been able to achieve with anyone else. He knew for a fact that she could outlast even him in sexual play and it pleased him in an odd sort of way.

The kiss finally finished, he let his head drop down over her shoulder, leaving his throat bared to her. "Sa," he whispered in her ear, thrusting hard into her, "do it. I'm ready."

As her hands caressed his throat, he moved his hands under her shoulders and curled his fingers up so that she could not slide up as he thrust into her. The touch of her lips on his throat made him moan in anticipation. Mindlessly thrusting into her, he drowned in the intense pleasure that surged through his body as her fangs sank into his flesh. His life-force, mingled inextricably with his blood, fed her vampiric need and his climax on the tail end of her drinking left him shaking over her, propped on his elbows, breathing hard.

"Making love to you is taking years off my life," he laughed softly. "From sheer exhaustion."

"Ah, but I put years back with my blood." Before he could move, she pressed her wrist to his mouth. When he had taken several swallows, she licked it, the cut healing almost instantly due to being a self-inflicted injury. "That felt good, Ty. Thank you. I've wanted that since I saw you standing before me in that hell hole."

"Glad to oblige." He rolled off her onto his side.

"We better clean up in the shower, love."

"Why don't I..." He caught sight of the blood traces on his still hard cock. "Lysa!"

She grabbed him before he could bolt off the bed. "It's ok, Ty. I knew it would end this way, but I needed you."

"Doctor Jade told me that I was to be gentle with you. This is why?" He reached up to cup her cheek as she nodded. "Then why? Why did you want me to..."

"You know why, Ty. We both know how the AIs like to treat their prisoners when they get the chance."

He shuddered, remembering his own experiences. His eyes closed at his own blindness. "I didn't even think about it. I just saw the obvious injuries. I didn't want to think about them touching you that way." His fist clenched as he imagined the Elroy's hands on her and his vision went red at the thought of her brutal rape at the AI's hands.

"That's why I wanted you to, Ty. I needed to feel you, my wild, powerful lover. I needed you to erase what was done to me." She caressed his jaw, turning his face to her, and kissed him. "A bit of bleeding is a small price to pay and it'll be healed by morning. Tomorrow night there will be none."

A thought occurred to him and he stiffened. "Russell, West. Did the AIs rape them?"

"Russell. He has St. John and Hawkes to care for him tonight."

"And West?" The thought of what that would have done to the psych of the young man worried McQueen.

"I managed to taunt the Elroy enough that West was never touched completely that way."

"Not completely?"

"The Elroy used its hands on him, made him climax against his desire. When you talk to him, be careful. He's already scared and unsure of himself now."

"When I talk to him? Shouldn't he be talking to a shrink?" McQueen propped himself up on an elbow.

"Right," she drawled. "A shrink who has absolutely no experience in this field. That'll have West so completely screwed up, he'll be useless to the squad. If you talk to him about it, he'll know it isn't psychological babble. He knows you've been there. Just like Wang and the breaking under torture. _You_ have been there and you're a guy. You won't be telling him that somehow on some deep hidden level he must have wanted the Elroy to do it to him. What a load of bullshit. No one wants it done to them."

"I see your point, but I don't know what to say."

"Love, that you'll know at the time." She tugged on his arm. "Now, let's get cleaned up. I want to snuggle up against my husband tonight, come Chigs or high water."

"All right."

He helped her off the bed, not missing the wince she gave as she sat up. "Lysa, you should have told me."

"And have you hold back? No. I wanted my husband, giving me everything he's worth to help erase what a vicious android did. Enough, please." She rested her hand on his arm and met his gaze frankly, pleadingly.

About to continue, McQueen realized what she was saying. It was her way of coping with the trauma. Briefly he wondered who had been her coping mechanism before. Russell? St. John? Someone else? He crushed the brief surge of jealousy; he had married a vampire knowing he would have to share her with other men and women. What mattered was she came back to him every night, she wanted him to help her cope, not someone else.

He gave her a nod and swept her up in his arms. "Let me take care of you, Lysa."

"Any time, love." She rested her head on his shoulder, her arms wrapped around his neck.

In the shower, he washed her gently, but thoroughly, making sure not to open any scabs. Seeing the full extent of bruising and injuries made him wish he could destroy the Elroy over and over again. Bruises the size of his outstretched hand covered her body from neck to ankles. Her wrists and ankles still showed signs of the savage cuts inflicted by her shackles. The whip marks down her back brought tears to his eyes. Such injuries he knew from his years in the mines of Omicron Draconis. She would keep at least two as scars for some time.

Her body clean, he started on her shoulder length hair.

"So, love, I know you've been quiet about it on doctor's orders, but what's happened?"

"We dropped half a dozen missles on the mine, from the 'Toga. The mine collapsed. Nothing else has happened. Which worries me." He kneaded her scalp with his fingers.

"Who's been told about the content of the mine?"

He sensed a wariness in the question. "General MacIntyre, that's all." She relaxed. "Why are you worried about who knows?"

"Because we could be in real trouble if AeroTech finds out about the mine. They could gain access to this mine very easily. Humanity isn't ready for what that stuff can do." A shiver went through her.

"Humanity? How do you know this?"

"If it's like some stuff in our history, it's not as uncommon as AeroTech thinks. This is just the wrong part of the galaxy for it. But it's too damn powerful. And too easily turned against the people using it."

"But if the Chigs start using it, we'll need some to fight them with."

"If and when they manage it again, Mac will allow some to be excavated, but not until then. You don't realize how powerful the stuff is, Ty. Entire planets were torn apart because someone made a mistake in purifying it. It's better left alone." Her arms wrapped around her, she shivered again.

"Planets?" He turned her around to look at him. "Are you sure?"

She nodded. "Planets, just like Earth."

"What fools AeroTech are to take such risks."

"They don't know and we can't tell them. It's better not to use the stuff than risk destroying Earth."

Hugging her, he said, "Yes. Especially now that I have someplace I want to go back to on Earth. I'd rather see it still around, including the people I've come to like."

"You know, Mac likes you."

Putting her head under the water, he asked, "Now how do you know that the good general actually likes me?"

Once her hair was rinsed, she switched places with him. "Because, my dear husband, he spent a great deal of time talking to you about other things than what you remember happened at the 'peace talks' on our trip out here."

McQueen ducked his head under the water. Some of that talk had been about her. General MacIntyre knew Lysa from childhood and had told him some interesting stories, giving him more insight into the woman he had married. "We just talked about things."

"Ha, I bet he told you some of my history," laughed Silver. "He's been dying to be able to tell the stories to whoever I picked as a mate." She grabbed the soap and started lathering up his back. "Hold still."

"I didn't ask."

"You wouldn't, but Mac would have found a way to bring it up and get started. Should hear him and my parents some time." She chuckled as her hands moved down to his buttocks, fingers kneading lightly, before crouching to soap his muscular legs. "He'll never let me forget some of the stupid things I did when I was younger. He has a long memory. Fortunately, he's a good natured man."

"He struck me as such. Lysa, you don't have to do that." He started to reach down and remove her hands.

"No more than you had to wash my hair or me. I like to do it, Ty. It makes me feel good."

Straightening up, he sighed, closed his eyes, and decided to enjoy the feeling of her hands on his body. Her touch was familiar, yet not arousing, relaxing him.

He had just turned the water off when the alarm klaxons blared. "I was wondering when the Chigs would notice the installation was gone." He dried off quickly. "Are you cleared for duty?"

"Light. I can take the bridge if you want."

"Thanks, love." He leaned over and kissed her soundly before dashing into the main room. He activated the intercom. "Bridge, McQueen. What's it look like?"

The familiar voice of Lt. Crowe answered. "Someone's mad at us, sir. Looks like a hundred fighters and a dozen bombers."

"Scramble all the squadrons on the roster." He shrugged into his turtleneck.

"The 5-8, sir?"

"Yes. I'll be joining them." His shorts slid up his legs.

"Yes, sir."

He glanced at Silver coming out of the bathroom. "Colonel Silver will be on the bridge momentarily." He grabbed his flight suit.

"Yes, sir."

Shutting off the intercom, McQueen grinned at the enthusiasm in the Navy lieutenant's voice. "Sounds like you have a fan club, Sa." Pulling the zipper up with one hand, he grabbed the socks she tossed him.

"Finish getting dressed, you." She laughed as she gathered up her clothing and started getting dressed. "Race you."

"Ha."

"Bet I'm on the bridge before you are in the cockpit."

"On. Loser buys dinner for the squad." He started lacing up his boots. Once they were done, he kissed her again, pressing his hand against her breast and said, "I love you."

"I love you. Now get out of here." She zipped up her flight suit.

Grinning, he dashed out the door, into the crowded corridor, filled with people rushing to their battlestations.

His flight gear on, he flung himself into his Hammerhead cockpit as the three healthy members of the squadron did the same. "Bridge, this is Queen Six."

"What took you so long?" came Silver's laugh. "You are cleared for launch, 5-8."

Shaking his head, McQueen switched channels and said, "All right, 5-8, let's go take out some Chigs."

"Yes, sir," came echoing back.

On the command bridge of the Saratoga, Silver sat back in her chair, listening to the various pilots' chatter. When a hand touched her lightly on the shoulder, she turned slightly so she could see Commodore Ross. His dark, craggy face held a touch of worry.

"I'm fine, Glen," she said softly. "Doctor cleared me for light duty. And I really need to be doing something right now."

He nodded and asked in a normal tone, "Anything suspicious out there?"

"Not so far. I think it's a standard task force, most likely dispatched when the facility ceased communications. It must have been quite a shock for it to just stop." She glanced at the three dimensional LIDAR the Saratoga had been equipped with. "I don't think there are any SuperHive ships out there, sir."

"Good. This baby's taken quite a beating from those ships. I'm not eager to face off against one any time soon." Ross stood, chewing his unlit cigar, his hands behind his back. He stared off through a viewport at the faint sparks of light denoting men and women fighting for their lives and those on his ship.

"None of us are. Though, I'll feel better when we rejoin the 5th Fleet. I feel a bit naked out here with only two destroyers escorting us." Silver paused, frowning as she spotted something on the LIDAR, holding up a hand to forestall anything the commodore might say. "6-4, 5-8, proceed to 34, 23, 43. Repeat 34, 23, 43. Investigate."

"What is it?" Ross leaned over to stare into the rotating globe. He spotted the empty area that could be the mark of a cloaked SuperHive ship. "Damn."

"It's probably nothing, but I'd rather make sure." Several Chig bombers, having emptied their loads against the space carrier and her two escorts, were streaking out to the coordinates she had given the squadrons. Why were they going there?

"Definitely."

A moment later, McQueen's voice filled Silver's headphones. "Nothing, 'Toga Control."

Vansen snapped, "Look!"

On the Saratoga's LIDAR, both Silver and Ross watched as the number of bombers doubled momentarily before returning to their original number.

"Something's out here, 'Toga Control." McQueen sounded shaken. "What the hell it is, I don't know, but I'm guessing it's a huge transport. Those bombers just landed in it as another batch exited. We only caught a glimpse. It's better cloaked, almost invisible to sight instead of just LIDAR."

"That's all we need," whispered Silver. Louder, she asked, "Do you think you can take it out, Queen Six?"

"Missiles won't find it if it's cloaked. We'll have to swing in right on the tail of some Chigs. It'll take some tricky timing."

Under their feet, Ross and Silver felt the reverberation of the 'Toga's missiles firing. Ross sighed. "Too risky. The chances of them surviving to get close enough to actually fire into the open bays is far too small. If we shift the 'Toga's position, we might be able to use the laser cannons to at least damage it and then perhaps their missiles would lock onto any discharges from the craft."

"Sounds like it's our best chance to take it out."

As Ross turned around, snapping "Helm!", Silver started talking to McQueen and the 64th's commander, Colonel Ramsey. "Ok, Queen Six, Stinger, listen up. Here's the plan. The 'Toga is moving toward the target until the laser cannons have a chance at hitting. Keep an eye on the location you believe the target to be in and relay any firing changes. Once suitable damage has been done to the target, attempt to lock your missiles on target. Keep the fighters off your tails in the meantime." She felt the increase in the engines' output through the deck and heard the tail end of Ross' talk with the destroyers' captains.

"Will do, 'Toga Control," replied McQueen.

"Hope this works," she heard Ramsey mutter. Ignoring it, she knew he was in charge of a squadron almost as good as the 5-8. In the 5th Fleet, the 58th and the 64th were the top two squadrons. If anyone could pull this off, it was them.

It took time to shift the massive bulk of the Saratoga out of orbit. By the time she had moved into laser cannon range of the cloaked Chig transport, a tense twenty minutes had dragged by. Chig fighters and bombers renewed their attacks on all three ships. The shudders felt underfoot were no longer just the recoil from the massive missile launchers. Some of the bombers were getting through the fighter net and the 'Toga's own laser fire.

On the LIDAR, Silver saw that the two squadrons were engaged between the 'Toga and her hopeful target. "6-4, 5-8, disengage fighter craft."

"Roger, 'Toga Control," answered McQueen.

"Fighter squadrons clearing, sir," she announced to Ross.

"Gunnery Sergeant, fire."

The laser cannons fired and Silver forced herself to sit back and breathe deeply. She would be busy soon enough. In the couple of minutes it took for McQueen to report, the Chigs tripled their attack on the Saratoga, telling her that the enemy had figured out the plan. As she directed the defense of the three ships, Silver waited for the report.

"'Toga Control, Queen Six. Complete miss. Keelward four points."

"Gunnery Sergeant, four points down on next volley," she barked. Into the headset mike, she said, "Roger, Queen Six."

The laser cannons fired again. She watched as two fighter pilots, hit by two separate Chig squadrons, vanished off the LIDAR permenantly and wished she could take the time to mourn their deaths. Relentlessly, she pushed the remaining fighters.

"'Toga Control, got a few hits that time. Keel one, port two."

"Roger, Queen Six." She turned to the Gunnery Sergeant. "Down one, port two."

On the LIDAR, she saw the smaller Chig fighters throwing themselves in the path of the laser cannons while the bombers bore down on the three Earth ships.

"Gunnery Sergeant, load the port missile racks with dumbfires." Ross stood watching the LIDAR. "We'll throw everything but the galley sink at that thing." Chomping hard on the cigar, he frowned slightly. "We're losing fighters," he said quietly.

"Yes. I don't know where the Chigs are getting all their replacements. Turnover must be horrific for them, but they seem to be pushing the war forward at a pace we're not able to keep up with. We don't have the replacements that they appear to have." Silver directed the 132nd squadron to take out a Chig bomber squadron bearing down on the destroyer Farragut.

"We'll be recruiting children if this intensity keeps up." Ross stood at parade rest, gazing out the view port.

"We need a draft, sir, planet wide. Every country needs to supply personnel and equipment. Not just a select few."

"Dumbfires ready, sir."

"Fire at will, Gunnery Sergeant." In a lower voice, Ross said, "Dangerous talk, colonel. One never knows who is listening."

"The SG better start looking at the full cost of this war. We can't afford to lose. She needs to get a unified Earth and soon. Otherwise, we better hope someone capable of rallying the Earth as a whole wins the next election."

"'Toga Control, keep the fire rate up. It's trying to flee."

"Gunnery Sergeant, intensify firing rate." Silver saw on the LIDAR a brief blimp where she guessed the Chig transport to be. "We're hitting her, but we need to keep her from escaping."

Attention forced back to defending the Earth ships, Silver still kept her eye on the LIDAR where the hidden ship had appeared for just a second. More human pilots died while she waited to hear from the two squadrons out with the Chig ship.

"'Toga Control, we're going in. Hold firing for two mikes."

"Roger, Queen Six. Gunnery Sergeant, hold fire two mikes."

Even as the gunnery sergeant acknowledged the command, Silver diverted a squadron to rescue another squad in dire straits, pinned against the bulk of the 'Toga's belly by Chig fighters.

"It's not going anywhere, 'Toga Control!" yelled Hawkes. "She's dead in space."

Cheers rang across the 'Toga's bridge. "Roger that, Jack of Hearts." She glanced at Ross.

"Take it out."

She nodded. "Finish her off, 6-4, 5-8."

"Roger, 'Toga Control. This bird's history."

When the system was cleared of all the Chigs two hours later, Silver leaned back in her chair, eyes closed. She reached up and patted the hand that touched her shoulder.

"They're on the way in?" asked Ross.

"Yes."

"Go on. Get that man back into bed, Lysa."

"Willingly, sir."

As she headed for the exit, Ross said, "And Colonel, tell him I expect a full briefing on this fight in the morning, 1000 hours."

"Yes, sir."

She was standing in the briefing room usually used by the 58th, looking into the docking bay and waiting for the unit to land when a woman in a white doctor's coat approached. Silver sighed, catching the reflection in the window. "Hello, Jade."

"Lysa, you shouldn't be up. I gave you explicit orders." The small woman glared at Silver, her jet black hair up in a bun on her head, bound by a dark blue scarf. The brilliant jade green eyes were accentuated by her dark skin and the fine eyebrows were drawn down into a frown.

"What was I to do, Jade? Let the Chigs destroy us? You cleared me for light duty. I consider the bridge to be light duty." Shaking her head, Silver said, "Jade, you need to settle in here. It's a lot different on a fighting ship than on Earth. I take it since you're here already that we suffered light casaulties today."

"Fifteen people were injured. You call that light?" Anger made her voice almost shrill and Jade stood, hands on hips.

Turning around to face the doctor, Silver said, "Yes, Jade, I call that light. The last engagement this vessel was in resulted in over five hundred dead, just on this ship alone, Jade. Over fifteen hundred men and women died in that engagement. An entire fleet was destroyed and another one nearly so." Shaking her head, Silver said, forcing herself to remain calm, "Jade, you're a good doctor and the squad will need your expertise. But you have to adjust to the reality around you. I hate like hell to lose any personnel, even to injuries, because that means fewer people for the next battle and people will most likely die. We lost good pilots out there today. Because of them, you had only fifteen injured people to take care of instead of arranging burial details for."

"I'm sorry, Lysa. I thought I could handle this. Hell, I've been in emergency rooms when major crisises have happened. Why is this so much harder?" Arms wrapped around herself, Jade stepped over to the nearest chair and sat down.

"You'll get used to it, Jade, trust me. Back on Earth, you didn't have to worry about the fact that you're in space, surrounded by vaccuum. You didn't have to worry about a hull breach or any number of terrifying things. But you'll learn to live with it. When you do, you'll make a damn fine space Navy doctor. Just like you always dreamed." Silver rested her hand on the doctor's shoulder, knowing how hard the woman at barely five foot four had fought to get into the Navy in the first place. "Now, Jade, why don't you go on back to Sickbay? I'm sure Connelly will be looking for you."

"You're my first concern, Lysa. I may have only been six when you left, but I knew I wanted to take care of you out here." Slowly Jade stood up. "I want you to go to bed and stay there until morning. Report to Sickbay for a checkup at 0800. Got it?"

"Yes, Jade. As soon as my husband gets in, I promise I'll go to bed."

"No sex, Lysa."

"No sex," Silver repeated wryly. She watched the woman leave the room. Turning around, she saw that the squadron had arrived and were already leaving the docking room. She hurried out to the corridor.

McQueen caught sight of her and frowned slightly. "Was that Dr. Jade I saw in there with you?"

"Yes."

"Dammit, but she should leave you alone." He hugged her, careful not to press her tightly against his hard flight gear.

"She's doing her job, taking care of me." Silver laughed softly. "Now, I have two sets of orders, the doctor's and the commodore's, stating that I am to take you to bed. So let's go, handsome."

"No argument from me."

As they headed for the elevator where the rest of the squad stood waiting, Silver said, "The commodore wants a briefing on the fight at 1000."

Groans sounded from the squadron and McQueen shook his head. "Meet me in the briefing room at 0800, Marines."

"Yes, sir," the squad said.

"Good."

Silver waited while McQueen put his flight gear away, admiring his body, seeing his tiredness. The others had already left the locker room when he closed his locker with a bang. "Shall we?"

"Yes."

In her quarters, after stripping off his sweaty flight suit, he undressed her and limited himself to merely holding her and kissing her in the bed until she slept.


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: The names of all 'Space: Above and Beyond' characters contained herein are the property of Glen Morgan and James Wong, Hard Eight Productions and the Fox Broadcasting Network. These names have been used without their permission. All else is my own creation.

Rating: NC17 Language, violence and graphic sex.

Spoilers: None

Warning: Sex, Language.

Author: Vasalysa, with many undying thanks to Geek.

2 Souls Bound

Chapter Three

The alarm rang at 0545 and McQueen groaned, reaching out to slap the offending piece of machinery off. He reached instead the warm body of his wife in the bed as she turned off the alarm.

"I'm getting used to this," he said, running his hand down her side lightly, mindful of her injuries. Her foot reached back and ran over the front of his shorts, making him groan in a totally different way. "Oh, yes, I'm getting used to this."

Silver turned over and slid her hand down where her foot had been, fondling him through the fabric. "Ready for action, Marine?" she breathed in his ear, her other hand sliding up under his tank top to rub one of his nipples.

"Any time." As her hands continued to caress him, McQueen divested himself of his shorts and pressed into her hand his bared flesh. "Can't you feel how ready for action I am?"

"You feel pretty ready, but I think we can make you even more ready."

Pushing the covers aside, she trailed kisses down his smooth stomach to his groin and he dug his fingers into the bed covers as she licked the head of his cock. For the several minutes she spent readying him, he moaned in his throat, enjoying the feel of her tongue and mouth on his shaft. "Lysa, I want to be in you."

"Soon, love, soon." Taking his entire length in her mouth, Silver sucked on him hard, making him arch up off the bed. Satisfied with his arousal, she slipped out of her shorts and flung a leg over his thighs, sitting just above his twitching cock.

He positioned himself and pushed up off the bed, burying himself in her. A cry of pleasure escaped them both as they sank back down onto the bed together. He grasped her hips and took her weight so that she could ride him as she wished.

In minutes they were both lost in a frenetic rhythm until with a soft cry, she climaxed, bringing him along with her.

She fell forward onto her hands and smiled, satisfied, before kissing him. "Morning."

"Damn, but that's the best sort of wake-up call," he grinned, running his hands over her breasts, marveling at the fact that the nasty burn that had been there the previous night was now a patch of extremely red skin. "I love you."

"I love you." With a sigh, she rolled off him. "We better clean up if we're going to have breakfast before our respective 0800 calls."

"I wish there had been some other doctor available for the squad," McQueen said from under the shower. "I have a hard time liking her."

"Ty, you have a hard time liking any doctors." She playfully punched him on the arm. "Come on, move over, I want under."

"It's more than that. I've always had the feeling she doesn't like me and it started when we met on the transport for the trip back here from Earth."

"Nonsense, Ty. She's just unsettled by being in space. She'll get over it and settle down. Then you'll see she's a damn fine doctor."

"I'm not doubting her capabilities, Lysa. We just don't like each other."

"Well, you'll have to at least get along, if that's the case. There's no other doctors available for vampire watching duty."

Drying off, he sighed at the truth of the statement. Most of the vampires or their remal in space were in the service as front line troops or behind enemy lines troops, allowing them to utilize their unique abilities. Until Dr. Jade showed up, the only person on board the 'Toga who had any idea of what to do with an injured vampire had been Nurse Temple. The head of Sickbay, Dr. Connelly, was learning, but she had a long way to go in understanding the physiology and mental makeup of a vampire.

"Come on, slow poke," he said, realizing Silver was still in the shower.

"I'll be right out. A final rinse." She leaned against the outer shower wall, swallowing hard, fighting down the desire to throw up. Successful, she rinsed the taste of bile from her mouth and turned off the water.

By the time she was dressed, she felt better and ready to go eat. In the Officers' Mess, she ate and listened to McQueen as he thought out loud about the report he would have to make to the commodore. She gave him some of her own comments on the battle, but mostly provided him a sounding board, helping him concentrate his thoughts. He kissed her before leaving and she watched him go, smiling and shaking her head slightly at the changes in him. The last mission had crystallized something in him and he had shed some inhibitions such as kissing her in the mess, something he had not done before.

She rose, both of their trays in hand.

"Colonel."

Looking up, she saw Colonel Ramsey approaching. "Colonel."

"I saw from your records that you've worked with the 138th and I was wondering... Are they a good squadron?"

The tall red head struck her as nervous. "Yes, they're a good squadron. If Terrilli is still in charge."

"He is. It's just with them being assigned to the 'Toga, I wanted your opinion of them."

"Assigned to the 'Toga?" Anton Terrilli assigned to the Saratoga? Silver sighed. As if her life needed complications. The Marines Terrilli had been in charge of were some of the rowdiest in the service four years ago and she didn't expect them to have changed much in that time. Or for Terrilli to have. She did not want to fend off his amorous advances.

"Didn't anyone tell you? It was announced four days ago." Ramsey snapped his jaw shut. "Oh, right. You were on that recon. Sorry."

"It's all right. Thanks for the info."

"Welcome. Look, I didn't mean to-"

"Ramsey, it's ok. I'm sure we would have been informed sooner or later."

"Ok." Still looking uneasy, Ramsey left the mess.

Putting the trays away, Silver reflected on the knowledge that Terrilli, Anton Terrilli, would be living on the Saratoga. She could only hope to talk to Terrilli before he started making trouble. With the increased sex drive of a remal, he could cause a lot of difficulty between her and Ty.

Through the crowded corridors of the space carrier, Silver made her way to Sickbay, her thoughts distracted. She allowed Jade to poke and prod her without comment, mulling things over in her head until Jade forcefully made her look at the doctor.

"I said no sex."

"You still have a lot to learn, Jade."

"Then educate me." Jade stood, hands on hips, glaring at Silver.

"Am I allowed to get dressed now?" Silver sat straight, clad only in her shorts and tank top.

"Yes."

"All right. Jade, you tell me, what kind of injuries did I have?" Silver snagged her flight suit from the chair.

"Burns, welts, cuts, bruises, internal injuries, and..." Jade's voice trailed away.

"Come on, say it. Rape trauma. The damned AIs raped me. Do you want to know how I deal with that, Jade? I make love to someone I care about. I use that as the means to banish what was done to me. It helps and after enough times, I stop dreaming about it all the time." Silver zipped up the flight suit and leaned over to grab her boots. "War is an ugly business, Jade, very ugly. I've survived this long by developing coping mechanisms. Making love is one of them. It's a very effective one."

Jade rested her hand on Silver's arm. "Lysa, I don't want you hurting yourself further. You still have massive bruising inside."

"I can live with a little pain, Jade. In fact, I can live with a lot of pain, and you know it."

"My job is to keep you from having to live with the pain. You're not helping." Crossing her arms, Jade shook her head. "You're as stubborn as ever, Lysa. Look, just take it easy, will you? It wouldn't take much to re-injure yourself and then you'd have to go without the sex. Ok?"

"I'll take it easy, Jade." Finished lacing her boots, Silver straightened. "I'll do my best to not make your job harder than it is, Jade, but sometimes I have to do things my way. I've been out here for nearly fifteen years and I can't just change how I cope with things. But I'll try to tell you about them before I start snarling at you."

"Oh, like you have been?" A quirk of a smile touched Jade's thin lips.

"This isn't snarling, Jade dear. It's snapping. You don't want to see me snarling."

"I remember your temper tantrums."

"No doubt. Just remember, you have to live with me." Silver frowned severely and then chuckled. "I promise I'll do what I can to make your job easier, Jade. I know I can be a rough patient, but you haven't even begun to see contrary until you get Ty in here." Silver didn't miss the way Jade's mouth tightened. "Jade, he thinks you don't like him."

Turning away, Jade said, "I don't know him well enough to know if I like him or not."

"Dammit, Jade, you spent five days on a transport watching him. Surely you can see he's a good man. I love him, Jade, and I don't want him unhappy." When Jade didn't answer, Silver sighed. "Jade, you're not a child anymore and I'm not the kid you worshiped. We've both grown up. I'm not worth such blind worship, Jade. I've done too many things, too many bad things." She reached out and turned Jade around gently. "We're both grown women and you need to accept that, Jade. Sort out your priorities. There are plenty of good men on this ship. Broaden your horizons."

"I don't need my horizons broadened, thank you," snapped Jade, anger snapping her upright.

Seeing the anger in the woman, Silver changed tactics. "How long before Finch and West are released from Sickbay?"

"West will be out today. Finch tomorrow. I don't like the fact she spent all that time in a coma. I want her to report to me if she has any difficulties at all."

"She will. Now, is my exam over?"

"Yes," came the curt answer.

"Fine. I have some reports to write. How long am I on light duty?" Silver tugged her flight suit straight.

"Seven days. After another exam at that time, I'll decide if you're fit for regular duty."

"Good enough. See you later, Jade." With a soft sigh, Silver left the exam room, regretting angering the other woman.

About to enter her office, Silver paused and then knocked on the door to the left.

"Come."

She entered and smiled at the man behind the desk. His youth had been burned away by six months of being a POW in the hands of AIs, leaving him looking older than his twenty two years. "How are you doing today, Wang?"

"Still slogging through the reports of the last year. I've finished the ones from the last three months." Pushing away from the desk, he rose, slowly but steadily, ignoring the cane propped against the filing cabinet beside him.

"You'll be caught up in no time." She still thought he looked too thin, but his body had quite a bit of muscle on it, developed by his intense physical therapy for the last six months.

He stepped over to the file cabinet and opened the top drawer. "Something came for you while you were on the mission. It looked fairly personal so I decided to leave it here rather than sitting in the mail room." From the drawer he drew out a small package. "By the way, I couldn't help noticing that the return address was the 138th squadron. It struck me as kinda funny since it's rumored that they're supposed to be joining us in five days that someone from there would be sending you a parcel."

Silver sighed. As she accepted the package, she didn't even need to look at the return address to know who it was from. "Does McQueen know about the 138th yet?"

"I don't think so, not unless someone else informed him. There hasn't been an official announcement yet."

"I'll let him know then. Thank you, Paul."

"You're welcome, colonel." He sighed and looked at his desk. "Guess I better get back to work."

"Same here."

In her office, Silver set the package down and stared at it for a long moment. She opened it slowly and found a hand written letter along with a small box of her favorite chocolates. Great, she thought, he's trying to butter me up for something. She opened the tri-folded letter.

'Dear Lysa,

I know it's presumptuous to call you by your first name, but as this is a sincere apology, I thought it best. I'd have done it by optical disc but this tub has no working recorders on board and mine bit the dust during our last ground mission. 'Sides, if you decide to burn this, it's a bit easier than an optical disc.

I know when we worked together before I was a real pain in the ass. I'm sorry. Really sorry. You didn't deserve the way I chased after you. I know all you wanted was a friend and I was determined to make it into something more. I promise that I will behave myself on the Saratoga. I didn't ask for the transfer. The Powers That Be have decided to scrap our ship and as the Saratoga is still short fighter squadrons, they decided to move the 138th over.

Again, I am sorry for the way I treated you before. I swear by all we hold in common that I will not give you cause to regret the reassignment of the 138th due to my actions toward you.

Please accept these chocolates as a peace offering, Lysa. And know that I offer my services, free of any strings, if you should need them. I will accept any role you desire for me. The Saratoga is your ground.

Congratulations on finally finding your mate.

Truly and sincerely,

Anton Terrilli'

She sighed, setting the letter down on the desk. "Damn it, Anton. Why the hell do you have to come and complicate things?" As she turned on the shredder, she shook her head. Terrilli had been a remal in desperate need of a vampire four years ago and she had tried to keep it on a friendship basis. His insistence on something more had finally driven her to request that the 112th be transferred. She could only hope that he had steadied down and truly be willing to merely serve as a friend and a remal at times.

The paper shredded quickly and she eyed the chocolates. Finally, she gave in to the temptation. No sense in letting such excellent chocolates go to waste.

McQueen stopped at Silver's office a few minutes before lunch. Knocking, he opened the door. "Lysa?"

"You're early, Ty. Just a sec. Here, have a chocolate." She pushed the box over toward him, never looking up from the computer terminal.

"Where'd these come from?" McQueen took a chocolate and realized that they were filled with a liqueur of some sort from the smell.

"From the CO of the 138th squadron."

"You know him?" He took one of the chocolates and popped it in his mouth.

"Yes. Lt. Colonel Anton Terrilli. We've worked together before. It's been four years." Still writing, she missed McQueen's lips tightening. "He's a good man."

She saved off her work and stood up. "Ok, I'm ready. What's wrong, Ty?"

"Nothing. Just didn't like the taste of that liqueur. So why did he send you a box of chocolates?"

Giving him a smile, she said, "Because it's a peace offering. The 138th is being transferred to the 'Toga and he wanted to make sure I buried the hatchet somewhere else than in him." She kissed him on the cheek.

"What did he do?"

"Just tried to be more than a friend. I wasn't interested and finally transferred the 112th out. He sent the chocolates as an apology." Silver took his arm and steered him toward the door. "Come on, let's go eat. I'm hungry for some real food."

McQueen shook his head and shoved old memories aside. "Then you're in the wrong place, love."

"I know, so I'll make do with the chow hall."

By the time the 138th officially arrived, the entire 5-8 was tense with anticipation. Rumors were flying all over about how the 138th were a bunch of drunks, roughnecks, irresponsible soldiers, reckless, and unable to manage civility toward other squadrons.

Deliberately, Silver did not tell the others in the squad, including McQueen, what to expect, wanting to see their reactions themselves. A quick check of the names had told her that the unit had lost only the one member she knew about and gained no new ones. She cautioned the trio not to let slip any details.

The 5-8 were assembled outside the ISSAPC landing bay, staring through the view port. As soon as the bay was pressurized, Hawkes hit the door switch, ducking through the opening when it was barely large enough to squeeze through. The rest of the squadron were on his heels, with McQueen and Silver at the rear.

Assuming attention with a nod from McQueen, the 5-8 waited for their first glimpse of the 138th.

The transport door opened and a thick necked, black haired man built like a barn door stepped out sporting a lieutenant's bars, sea-bag over his broad shoulder. He spotted Silver and grinned knowingly. "Hey, colonel. I see you're still traveling around with those three losers."

Even as McQueen started to stiffen, Silver said, "Blackie, you reprobate. Still haven't learned any manners, I see. How many times have you been busted down to lieutenant now? Thirty? Forty?"

"Thirty-eight, two weeks ago." The man shrugged. "Hell, I'm a lifer. They don't dare let me out among the civies. So, colonel, I hear you got yourself hitched. Someone said you robbed a tank of its occupant. I didn't give them no mind."

"Now, now, Blackie, the gentleman standing beside me is my husband, Colonel McQueen."

Blackie ran his eyes over McQueen, his brown eyes shrewd and knowing. "Howdy, McQueen."

Giving the loud talking man a deeper look, McQueen realized that behind the brash facade was a sharp mind. A mind that knew the value of appearing to be something he was not. He nodded to the man. "Blackie."

A grin and a knowing look were given him before Blackie moved out of the doorway.

Stepping out of the transport came a fop, his flight suit obviously tailored to his well-defined body. Brushing brown hair out of his eyes, he saw Finch and grinned. "Hey, Finchie, why don't you drop tall and dark and come with a real man?"

"Who, you, Dobbs? Ha!" Finch snapped back. "I'd rather go out with a Chig."

"Ah, what'd you have to go and hurt my feelings for, Finchie?" Dobbs stumbled forward as he was pushed from behind.

"Yo, Doffs, don't we keep telling you? The brass first, you doff. Then start making passes at the women." A lean, dark-skinned man sauntered past Dobbs, who had whipped out a comb to straighten his hair. "Yo, Colonel Silver, nice to see you." He snapped off a salute to Silver and dropped it as he turned to McQueen. His eyes slid over McQueen in a suggestive way and he grinned as McQueen refused to rise to the bait. Slinging another salute, the man said, "Lt. Leon, sir."

McQueen returned the salute, noticing that for all the apparent sloppiness in the action, Leon's movements were actually crisp and accurate.

Spinning on his heel, Leon executed a perfect right turn, catching his sea-bag as it came sailing through the air toward him. "Thanks, Raddie. Don't let them scare you, Raddie. Just shove on past Doffs and introduce yourself to the brass."

Looking up at the transport, McQueen saw at first what he thought was a kid, so thin and small was the fellow. Under a shock of dirty blond hair peered pale blue eyes, seemingly lifeless. Raddie grabbed another sea-bag with a quick jerk and scuttled down the ramp.

"Lt. Raddison." Raddison snapped a salute, spun in place and ran after Leon who had stepped over by Blackie near the front of the transport.

Finished combing his hair, Dobbs stepped down the ramp and saluted, lazily with his comb. "Lt. Dobbs."

The sound of someone tripping and hitting the transport brought McQueen's head up. Dark haired, brown eyed, the man untangled his arms and legs with alacrity, seemingly unfazed by his tripping. Coming down the ramp, somehow the lean body managed to trip again, nearly falling off the ramp. He approached Silver and McQueen, bringing his hand up to salute.

Apparently walking and saluting were not among the man's skills, thought McQueen as the man tripped again, landing at Silver's feet.

"Jinx, I see you haven't changed." Laughing, Silver reached down to give the man a hand up. "But I think I've found someone who can screw up a mission as well as you can."

"Really?" The brown eyes widened perceptibly. "Who?"

"Hawkes. He's even managed the unspeakable." Silver straightened the man up.

"No! Really? He actually did it?"

"Indeed. I even have witnesses. He declared that the only thing that could make the mission even worse was-"

"Rain!" chimed in the entire 58th squadron with the exception of Hawkes.

Grinning broadly, Jinx shook his head. "Not even I would do that one."

"It rained the entire mission."

Stumbling away, Jinx continued to shake his head.

"All right you maggots! Didn't I tell you to make a good impression?" A stocky man stepped out of the transport, sergeant's stripes on his sleeves, dropping a sea-bag to the deck beside the ramp. His bald head reached only to McQueen's nose, but his body bristled with menace. "The colonel's counting on you and what do you crumbs do? Act like we're on some vacation resort!"

"Monty." Silver's quiet word cut the sergeant's rant off before it could develop fully.

The sergeant spun on his heel, marched smartly over to before the two colonels and saluted. "Sgt. Tremont, sir."

"Colonel McQueen, sergeant." Returning the salute, McQueen wondered how an apparent spit and polish sergeant survived in the 138th.

"Yes, sir."

"Monty, why the hell are you still with this group of ruffians?" asked Silver smiling.

"Well, begging your pardon, ma'am, but someone has to see to it they wipe their asses and keep their noses clean. And the colonel..." Monty's voice dropped. "The colonel, well, he needs some looking after these days since... since Padre died."

"You keep on doing that, Monty."

McQueen spotted the man in the transport and swallowed. Damn but Terrilli looked good after all these years. "Colonel Terrilli."

Moving smoothly down the ramp, Terrilli embodied the tall, dark and handsome ideal. His Italian ancestors had given him a dark complexion to match his dark brown eyes and chocolate colored hair. A well developed body filled out the flight suit and McQueen couldn't help noticing how Terrilli looked at Silver as if looking for an answer to an unspoken question. He apparently did not see his answer and said, "Colonel McQueen, Colonel Silver."

Almost hesitantly, McQueen gave a slight nod in return.

Silver raised an eyebrow in speculation as she shook Terrilli's hand, but held her questions. McQueen knew Terrilli. That put the questions he had been asking the last several days into perspective. "Captain Vansen, please take the 5-8 and escort the 138th to their quarters. Show them around."

"Yes, ma'am."

As the squadrons filed out, Silver said, "Colonels, a word please. In the briefing room."

McQueen's long suffering look told her he knew she was about to pry, but he also knew better than to stop her. Without a word, he led the way to the briefing room. He stalked over to the window, staring out at the cockpits being worked on, hands clasped behind his back.

Before Silver could speak, Terrilli dropped his sea-bag in a chair and turned to McQueen. "McQueen, I kept dreaming of being assigned to work somewhere near you. I kept an eye on your career."

"We weren't friends, Terrilli." McQueen's voice was dry. "But neither were we enemies."

"No, and it was my own fear that kept me from trying to be your friend." Terrilli shook his head. "I've regretted it through the years. Maybe if I had dared earlier, it would never have happened."

"It would have, Terrilli. Sgt. Fulton hated me too much. The only difference would have been two of us in that shower." McQueen continued to stare through the glass, but Silver saw his jaw clench tightly, telling her of a bad memory.

Silver walked over to the door and locked it. "I think I better hear about this, Ty."

Terrilli gave her a startled look.

"We're married."

"Sorry, I didn't realize it was him. I just assumed it was someone else. I didn't actually ask who you married. Does he know what you are?" Terrilli asked quietly.

"Yes. I know she's a vampire." McQueen's voice sounded tight.

"Then all I need to say is that I'm a remal, McQueen. You've done a helluva lot better than I'd ever hoped." Terrilli motioned to a chair and Silver nodded. As he sat down, he said, "I'll be frank. I'll admit that from the moment I saw you get off the bus at Loxley, I wanted you, McQueen. Every male lover I've had over the years has been tall, blond and blue-eyed as well as strong willed, but none of them were you."

McQueen's shoulders tightened. "What the hell is it with all you vampires and remal? What is it about me that turns you all on?"

Stepping over, Silver touched his arm lightly. "Ty, we've had this discussion before. You're handsome, gorgeous, delicious. Your soul burns bright even with everything that's been done to you over the years. It draws us like a moth to the flame."

Shaking his head, McQueen continued to stare out into the docking bay. His eyes slid over to Terrilli's reflection after a moment. "I never suspected it. A lot of the others, yes. I just figured you were turned off by being around a tank. But I could have used a friend."

"I didn't have the guts to try and be your friend, McQueen. So I buried my desires. Boot camp was no place for it. I might have approached you later, but after what happened, I knew that you would shy away from me, so I kept my distance."

"You didn't do it. You tried to stop it." His reflection revealed McQueen's hidden anger.

"But I wasn't able to." Sorrow tinged Terrilli's voice.

"They beat you, Terrilli. They beat you for trying to help me. Sgt. Fulton hated me too much to let you interfer with his 'fun'. He would have killed you afterward. I was only a worthless tank and who would believe me?" Stiff and rigid, McQueen closed his eyes. "Damn the man."

Terrilli turned to Silver as she took a seat. "Fulton was the sergeant in charge of our flight. He took an instant dislike to McQueen from the very second he laid eyes on him. That dislike turned into hatred quickly when he found he couldn't faze McQueen. I remember wondering how the hell McQueen could let the insults and taunts roll off his shoulders. When I learned much later where McQueen spent his indenturature, I understood. Nothing Fulton could threaten to do held any threat to a man who spent five years in the mines. Nothing. So, Fulton drove McQueen harder, trying to break him. He encouraged others to treat McQueen like dirt. Some of us, we didn't do it and Fulton turned his wrath on us, giving us the shitty details, but always the worse ones went to McQueen. Boot is supposed to be hell, but this was even worse." Terrilli shook his head. "We made it eleven months. A month to go before we would be given our specialties. Fulton assigned seven of us to outside scut jobs. McQueen got the latrines... again. The rest of the squadron had various other inside details."

"I think I see where this is going." Silver looked over at McQueen. "Ty, please, come here. Sit down."

He shook his head. "I can't."

"Yes, you can. Don't let him win even now." She held out her hand.

Slowly, McQueen turned around and walked over to stand beside her. "Lysa, it was years ago."

"So were the mines and they still haunt you." She took his hand and tugged downward. "Sit."

An air of pain surrounded McQueen as he sat down beside her. "I don't want to talk about it, Lysa."

"I know, but I need to know. Would you rather I got it only from Anton?" When he didn't respond, Silver said softly, "Talk to me, Ty. You know I'll just keep at it until I get the story from you."

Giving a jerky nod, McQueen dropped his gaze to his clenched hands. His voice was flat, bitter and the words came slowly as if being dragged from the depths of his body. "I was cleaning the showers. Fulton and five others entered after ten mikes. Fulton started criticizing my job. I ignored it since he always criticized my work. One of the others came up behind me and hit me over the head with a baton. It took all five of them to bring me down. Fulton just stood and watched. They stripped me and bound my hands behind my back." He stiffened, staring past Silver. "Fulton beat me before he dared to... to rape me."

Terrilli sighed and spoke, not looking at McQueen. "After nearly an hour outside, I was sent inside by a captain who wanted to ask McQueen some questions. I arrived and entered the latrine. Fulton and the other twelve had been busy. McQueen was a bloody mess and looked to be barely conscious. They had gagged him with his shorts and bound his hands back to back up between his shoulders. One of the men, Martins, was taking him while Fulton watched. Two others grabbed me. I fought them, but it had been over a year since I'd lain with a vampire. Another of the group joined in and they beat me soundly before binding me. Fulton sauntered over in order to kick me several times before he returned to McQueen. He lifted McQueen's head and said, 'He's not so pretty now, is he?' I didn't answer, but I thought McQueen looked even more beautiful; the fierce pride that refused to give in shone in his face and I wanted nothing more than to hold him and take away the pain. I couldn't help admiring him more."

McQueen dropped his gaze to his clasped hands. After a long pause, he said, "I couldn't understand what I saw in your eyes. No one had ever admired me before, not that way."

Starting to raise a hand to McQueen, Terrilli let it drop with a soft sigh. "When Fulton started beating you again, I fought, wanting only to get to you, but I couldn't." Terrilli shook his head. "I wanted to kill Fulton and, if I had gotten my hands on him, I would have."

"After me." Hatred rang in the words.

Terrilli smiled briefly at McQueen. "You had even more reason to hate the man and you never seemed to, until then." He sighed. "The only thing that saved us was the captain arriving, wondering where the hell we had gotten to. She was appalled at what was happening and she brought the charges up against Fulton and the others. I told the tribunal everything I knew Fulton had done to you since the beginning and how you always ignored it, turning away every chance to get back. I think that helped blow a hole in Fulton's explanation that he was merely disciplining you for mouthing off at him. That and the captain's indignation that such disciplining could possibly be allowed in the Corps."

"She didn't think my being a tank had anything to do with what happened. She was angry at the very idea that Fulton had gotten away with such behavior." McQueen rubbed his thumbs together. "Her question to the tribunal about how many other Marines had Fulton dared to abuse in this manner definitely put them on my side."

"Fulton and the other twelve were sent to Leavenworth. Fulton's dead, by the way. I guess he tried to manhandle the wrong people. He suffered the fate he intended to deal out to you."

"I won't say it serves him right." McQueen sighed. "But I'm glad he was no longer able to punish other recruits like he did me."

Terrilli glanced at the deck before asking, "I know it's a lot to ask, but will you allow me to get to know you, McQueen? I would like to be your friend. I've regretted my cowardice for many years."

"You weren't a coward, Terrilli. Not when it mattered. You could have lied to the tribunal." McQueen finally looked at Terrilli. "You had your own career to think about. I don't blame you in the least for what happened."

"That's makes me feel even worse."

Slowly, McQueen reached over and lightly brushed his fingertips over the other man's shoulder. "I told you, it was not your fault what happened." Dropping his hand, he sat back and thought about what to say. He knew this man could help Silver with keeping up to strength, but could he live with the knowledge that she was making love to this man from his past? Making up his mind, he said, almost too quickly, "Meet us in the Tunn Tavern at 1900. Tell me what you've been doing with yourself." He glanced over at Silver. "A vampire needs as many Remal as she can get."

"Only those you're comfortable with, Ty. You know that." She smiled gently at him.

Terrilli glanced over at Silver. "Lysa, I'm not like I was four years ago. I've learned to live with myself this way. I have no intention of pushing myself at you as a remal. If you need my services, you have only to ask.. I do not wish to create friction between the two of you."

Silver nodded at him. "We'll see what develops, Anton. Your squad is on Deck 15, Section F, starboard side. Your quarters are on Deck 7."

"And the Tunn Tavern?"

"Deck 17, Section H. Ask anyone. They'll get you there."

Terrilli nodded and rose. He started to turn away and then looked back at McQueen. "I didn't ask to be assigned here. I want you to know that."

With a nod, McQueen rose. He didn't offer to shake hands, but also he didn't turn away. "We'll see you later."

Once they were alone, McQueen threw himself back down in a chair. "Ok. Tell me."

"I did. He was a remal desperate for a vampire. Only he wanted to be more. I transferred out." Silver shrugged. "He's had four years to work it through. He was a good man and a nice tumble. Just too insistent." Rising, she stepped behind McQueen. Leaning over to speak softly by his ear, she said, "You could have told me." Her hands came to rest on his shoulders and kneaded the tight muscles. "In fact, you should have. None of this would have needed to happen if you had told me you knew him and what the circumstances had been."

McQueen grimaced, both from the pain from the muscles knots being worked and from her words. He reached up to pat her hand. "I don't like to talk about the past. It's such a bad place most of the time."

"The only way you're going to lessen the nightmares is to face the past, no matter how bad." Silver sighed. "I fully understand you not wanting a shrink. They have no concept of how to deal with Invitroes. But you're going to talk to me and we'll muddle through this together. Ok?"

"Didn't that fall under for better or for worse?" He managed a wan chuckle.

"Somewhere in there." She stepped around and sat on his lap, facing him. Even as he tried to push her off, aware of people in the cockpit area, she grabbed his chin and kissed him. His hands slowly moved from pushing her away to pulling her toward him. When he came up for air, she said, "I love you, Tyrus Cassius McQueen, and I intend to make sure you know it at every chance. Maybe that way, you'll stop feeling like you have to hide your past from me."

"What about all the things you haven't told me about your past?" This time when he pushed her away, she slid off to stand beside him. "There's a lot you haven't told me."

"I've already told you, all you have to do is ask. As long as it's not classified, I'll tell you." She ran her hand through his delightfully short hair. "You need a haircut, love. You've added a whole quarter inch in length."

He glared up at her, but found it impossible to maintain as she grinned knowingly at him. "God, woman. You're impossible."

"Oh, I thought the word you used was insatiable."

"That too." He stood up and pulled her to him. "You do realize that you're ruining my rep with all the lower ranks?" He kissed her before she could speak. "I do not want to go and make sure that Terrilli's new Hammerheads have arrived."

"Well, the sooner we finish the day's business, the sooner we can retire before dinner." As his back was to the windows, Silver slid her hand down his front to his waist, then back up to his throat. Reluctantly, she pushed away. "Come on, fly boy. We have chores to do before we can have any fun."

Strict control kept McQueen on his feet and schooled his face to calmness, though his eyes remained bright sapphires. "Who the hell needs dinner?"

Silver laughed, turning away. "Come on. Let's get our work finished."

With an aggrieved sigh, McQueen stalked toward the door.

Stepping from the shower, water still running down his back and legs, McQueen grabbed a towel and started drying off. By the time he reached his waist, the slim, firm hands of his wife had taken over the job and he enjoyed the feel of her hands on his body. "Lysa, are you seeing the trio tonight?" he asked quietly.

"Afraid so." She crouched before him, drying his legs. Standing, she kissed him, flinging the towel over the rack. As he nuzzled her neck, Silver hugged him. "I'll meet you at Glen's after. Like usual."

"Ok." Resigned to not getting another tumble before 2200, he headed into the main room. She would be busy for the trio for an hour and a half.

Dressing in his tank top and shorts, he glanced up at Silver. The bruises remained, a lot smaller than before, as did the worst of the injuries, but she no longer looked pale and drawn. "How's Finch doing?"

"Fine. She hasn't shown any signs of problems and she flew that sortie yesterday without a problem." Silver started dressing.

"Jade was all over me for allowing her out." McQueen sighed. "Dammit, Lysa, I know you tell me she doesn't hate me, but she sure as hell acts like it." He started putting on his flight suit.

"She doesn't hate you, Ty. She just doesn't know how to handle my being married. On top of having to adjust to being a doctor on a space carrier. She's feeling out of her depth and has focused on you, I'm afraid." Caressing his jaw, she added, "I'll keep talking to her."

"Do we have to take her on a mission?" Zipping up the flight suit, McQueen fetched his socks from inside his combat boots. "I know she had to pass basic firearms, but I have the feeling she's going to be useless the first time out."

"Well, I suppose you could ask Dr. Connelly." Silver tossed her socks on the bed as she sat down.

On the other side of the bed, McQueen groaned at the thought. "I can see it. Glen roaring at the top of his lungs, 'You want to take the head of Sickbay on a mission? Why the hell did we get you a doctor for your squadron if you're not going to use her?' No thank you." His socks on, he picked up a combat boot.

"Oh, but he roars so well." Silver laughed, pulling on her sock.

"Guess we better get it over with then. The next ground mission we'll take Jade along." Yanking his laces tight, McQueen grimaced. "I just hope nothing goes wrong."

"She'll do fine, Ty. Once her training kicks her into gear, she'll work out." Putting a foot into a boot, she added, "It's just getting her to trust her training that's going to be the problem."

"Frankly, dropping someone into the middle of a firefight is not the best way to get someone to trust their training." He stood up. "Hurry up, lazy bones."

Getting up and retrieving her second boot from beside the dresser, she said, "Well, if you hadn't thrown the damn boot, I'd have been done by now."

"I didn't break the laces, did I?" He remembered the intense need he'd felt earlier to get her out of her uniform.

"Nope, they're intact." She finished lacing the boot up and stood up, stomping her feet. "Ok. Let's go. We can still get something to eat in the mess. I do not want the Tunn's sandwiches for the third night in a row."

"Can I help it if I want you more than I want food?" He grabbed her and pulled her close, kissing her soundly.

Her arms wrapped around his neck, she said, "I know the feeling, but we both need some food in us. So come on."

He followed her out, admiring the way her hips swayed.

His food in front on him and thinking about the fact he was going to be meeting Terrilli in forty minutes, McQueen looked over at Silver and asked, "So who was Padre?"

Silver stabbed some supposed pork, letting the fork drop to the plate, and sighed. As she talked, she drank her coffee. "Padre... Padre was tall, blond and good looking, built like Anton, but he was one of those who don't seem to realize they're beautiful. He had studied to become a preacher somewhere in the deep South. So sometimes he'd start preaching, nicely, but you didn't care because he could turn a phrase like you wouldn't believe. He was an extremely easy going fellow. Anton and he had been quiet about it, but Padre loved Anton. You could see it in Padre's eyes. Shortly after our two units started working together, Padre, Raddie and Anton were captured by human terrorists. Anton had been knocked unconscious and Padre swapped uniforms. By the time, Anton regained consciousness, the terrorists were too busy torturing Padre to want to stop."

"Is that when he died?" McQueen had eaten roughly a quarter of his food by now and frowned into his empty coffee mug.

Rising, Silver took both of their mugs. "No." She walked over to the coffee dispensors and refilled their mugs.

He saw the sadness in her body and his jaw tightened. As she sat down, he asked, "What happened?"

"We got there, brought them out, killing as many of the terrorists as we could lay our hands on. Despite our 'bring back alive' orders." Elbows on the table, Silver sipped her coffee. "Padre was a broken wreck, but Anton refused to leave him. He kept trying to push me to help Padre, but..."

"But what?" McQueen leaned forward.

"Padre didn't want my help. Vampires didn't belong in his world. So there was nothing I could do. It took months, but Padre returned to duty, horribly scarred. Anton by his side whenever he could be." Silver put her mug down. "The squad supported Padre, but he was a changed man. He hardly ever laughed any more. He turned away from Anton. That's when Anton started becoming a nuisance to me. I knew it was because Padre had turned his back on him, after all the support Anton had given. But that didn't matter when Anton continually wanted me. So I transferred out. A year later, Padre died on another mission. Monty wrote me and told me Anton had become suicidal. Fortunately it worked its way out of his system after almost a year. Monty kept in touch for another year, letting me know how things were going, until I transferred here." Silver started eating.

His plate mostly empty, McQueen asked, "What about the others? Raddison. What's his story?"

After a couple of bites, she said, "Raddie, well, Raddie is Raddie. He's a tunnel rat. By nature, not training. He'd go down ventilation shafts or whatever tiny way in someone would find and he would plant explosives or play sniper or whatever. I understand that he's invaluable in Chig mines. He's managed to actually keep most folks with him alive, unless they behave stupidly."

"Sounds like he could be useful if we find another mine site." He let her eat a bit more. "Jinx. Is he as dangerous as I think he is?"

"Jinx dangerous?" Chuckling, Silver shook his head. "No, he's not really dangerous. Mostly he jinxes himself, but he's damn useful. I don't know how the hell it happened, but during one of the early exercises in basic, when it was supposed to be dummy explosives, some real ones were in place and active."

"I remember hearing about the accident. Someone lost their rating over the incident." McQueen drank some coffee.

"Yes. Jinx saved two others that day, but scrapnel penetrated his skull. Some of the pieces were so deeply imbedded in his brain that it was figured he would have massive brain damage. He was unconscious for three days and the doctors figured he'd be lucky to be able to walk at all. On the fourth day, he woke up, struggled out of bed and demanded to get back to training. He can walk, not very well, but if he really concentrates he can do it quite well, but it leaves him exhausted afterward. Marching parade-style is out of the question, but once he's out in the field, he's invaluable."

"How?"

"His perceptions are not the same as ours. He can hear things we can't. Doctors found that he can hear into ranges most animals can, both lower and higher than ninety-five percent of humanity. Useful when someone's lobbing grenades at you. He hears them coming and gets you out of the way. He can hear aircraft coming long before anyone else. He also can hear the buzz bombs under the ground." Eating some more, she added, "His vision gets a little funny sometimes and he'll see things we don't, but the doctors have never been able to determine what's going on there. Sometimes his touch gets out of wack, but other times he can tell you how many grains of sand are under his fingertips." She shook her head. "From time to time, he jinxes things, sheer bad luck with his coordination, but none of the missions have been total losses."

"Leon."

She cleaned half her food off her plate before answering. "Despite appearances, Blackie, Leon and Dobbs are all thoroughly professional killers. I've never pried into their backgrounds, but I have my suspicions. I think Leon killed someone outside and was sentenced to the Marines. He has a need to take care of Raddie and Jinx, which he does very well. Blackie... Blackie hates the military, but knows that he is a psychological killer that can't be turned loose. So he's resigned to staying in the Corps. He's a killing machine, Ty, and very good at it. He's trained himself to kill the Enemy and he'll do it until someone he respects tells him to stop. It doesn't matter to him who or what the enemy is, he'll kill them with ruthless efficiency."

"How do you gain his respect?"

"Depends on the person. I did it by taking him down in the field. He didn't listen and I kicked his ass." Silver shrugged. "You'll know when he's pushing you, when he's trying to see if you're worth his respect."

Finishing her food, she picked up her mug again. "You haven't asked about Dobbs."

"I'm afraid to."

She grinned. "The dandy, foppish appearance and womanizer disappear in the field. Though he'll play on it to break the tension." Tapping her fingers against the table, she looked at them and with a mock horrified lock, said, "Oh, hell, I broke a nail."

Chuckling, McQueen nodded. "A jokster?"

"Somewhat. Never truly distracting. Just lighten the mood stuff."

"What about the sergeant?"

"Monty came to the squad with Anton. Their previous unit was decimated and the two of them survived, badly injured, but alive. The 138th's CO and XO had been killed in the same action, so the brass decided to put Anton and Monty in with the 138th. I guess Anton and Monty proved themselves to the unit pretty quickly." Silver tipped her empty coffee mug upside down. "Another please."

"Sure."

As McQueen fetched them more coffee, she watched him, loving to watch the way he moved. "We need to go soon," she said quietly once he had sat back down.

"I know." He stared into his mug.

"Ty, we're just going to talk to him. Nothing else." She reached over and caressed his hand.

He nodded.

"I'm not planning on taking him to bed, Ty."

He quirked his lips to the side. "I guess that's part of the problem."

"I know. Come on. Let's go." She gulped her coffee down, set the empty mug on her tray and took the tray to the disposal area. Waiting, she let her eyes roam over him as he followed her.

She stopped him from pushing the button to go down at the elevator. Instead, she pushed up. He followed her, knowing she had something in mind and wouldn't tell him until she was ready. On Deck 5, she stepped out and led the way to the large observation dome. To his surprise, it was virtually empty.

In the corner of the room, she pushed him against the wall and kissed him, wrapping her arms around him. Kissing her back, his hands pressing her against him, he felt the familiar heat building.

"Ty, this is what I do with my husband. No one else. Just you." She gazed into his eyes.

With a sigh, he rested his head on her shoulder. "I know. I'm still adjusting."

"I don't go hightailing it off to romantic spots with anyone else. Just you. Nor am I itching to get into anyone else's pants."

He laughed softly. "Good."

"So are you ready now?"

"Yes. Let's go see Anton."

"That's my colonel." She pressed against him.

He kissed her soundly before releasing her. "We better go or I'm not going to. I'll take you back to your quarters."

"Then we better go." Holding his hand, she led the way back to the elevator.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four - 2 Souls Bound Page 19

Disclaimer: The names of all 'Space: Above and Beyond' characters contained herein are the property of Glen Morgan and James Wong, Hard Eight Productions and the Fox Broadcasting Network. These names have been used without their permission. All else is my own creation.

Rating: NC17 Language, violence and graphic sex.

Spoilers: None

Warning: Sex, Language.

Author: Vasalysa, with many undying thanks to Geek.

2 Souls Bound

Chapter Four

They found Terrilli sitting in the far corner of the Tunn, Monty leaning over the table, talking in a low voice to him.

Monty straightened up as they approached and nodded. "I'll be leaving now."

Catching the sergeant by the arm, Silver said, "You've been taking good care of him, Monty."

"I've been doing my best, ma'am. He makes it hard sometimes, but I do whatever I can."

Releasing him, Silver turned to Terrilli. "Anton."

"Sit down, both of you. Want a drink?" His brown eyes shone brightly.

"How many drinks have you had already?" She sat down on Terrilli's left.

As Terrilli frowned, thinking it over, Monty said bitingly, "Four scotches and no dinner."

McQueen gestured to the bar. "Tell the barkeep you want a Club, heavy on the mayo and a large pot of coffee. Put it on my tab." He handed the sergeant his debit card. "Get yourself a drink, you look like you could use one. Two whiskeys for me and Silver."

"Yes, sir."

McQueen sat down on Terrilli's right side. "Terrilli, why the hell are you drinking on an empty stomach?"

His gaze on the remaining scotch in his tumbler, Terrilli said in a low voice, "I couldn't eat. I sat down, looked at the food and just couldn't eat. So I came here for a drink."

"So, Anton, why?" Silver propped her elbows on the table and her chin on her hands.

"I'd guess stress. I was really uneasy about seeing you again, you know." Terrilli sighed, not looking up. "I didn't know how the hell you were going to respond to me, Lysa."

"Afraid I was going to rip you apart?"

"Wouldn't have blamed you. I acted like an ass." For a brief second, Terrilli looked up and they both saw the pain in his eyes. Staring back at his tumbler, he said, "And then on the way here, I started thinking about the fact that I would be seeing McQueen here. I mean, I knew I was going to be seeing him, but it started to sink in that I would be working with him, be around him, able to see him in the mess, things like that."

McQueen drew back, back stiffening.

With a bitter laugh, Terrilli said, "Not to worry, McQueen. Even falling down drunk, I know better than to get between her and her mate. No one in their right mind will lay a hand on you without your permission, McQueen. Between Lysa and those 'Cards of yours, you're protected." He sighed heavily, picked up his drink and took a large swallow. "What I wouldn't give to have more than just Monty give a rats' ass about me."

At that moment, Monty returned, carrying a tray. He handed McQueen and Silver their drinks, set a pot of coffee on the table with two mugs, and slid two Club sandwiches onto the table. Handing the debit card back to McQueen, Monty said, "I got myself a sandwich, too, sir. I'll pay you back once my pay's straightened out."

"Monty, how many times has your pay been screwed up now?" Silver asked, shaking her head as the sergeant sat down.

"Every damn move, ma'am. Sorry, ma'am." The sergeant poured the coffee, shoved one of the mugs toward his colonel and started eating like a starved man.

When Terrilli ignored the coffee, continuing to stare at his tumbler, Silver touched his hand lightly. "Drink the coffee, Anton."

For a long moment, Terrilli just sat still. He reached out and grabbed the mug and pulled it to him. Pouring what was left of his scotch into the coffee, he started sipping it.

"It's going to be a long night," sighed Silver.

"No, it's going to be a long night for him." McQueen stabbed a finger at Terrilli. "Getting skunked was his idea, not ours."

"True, but if we have a fight on our hands, he's going to be useless out there." Silver sighed. "Come on, Torch, let's get you sober enough, just in case." She started to take away the scotch enhanced coffee. When Terrilli refused to give it up, she pulled his hands down and pinned them to the table. "Take it away from him, Ty."

As McQueen wrestled the cup away from Terrilli, Monty said, "You know, ma'am, I'd like to know someday how the hell _you_ can do _that_ to _him_." Only a couple of bites remained of his sandwich.

"Trade secret, I'm afraid, Monty." Silver released Terrilli who glared at her.

"I was drinking the coffee."

"No, you were drinking scotch with your coffee. Not the same thing." Silver glanced at the sergeant. "Close your ears, Monty."

"I'm eating, can't hear a thing, I'm afraid," said Monty stuffing a bite in his mouth.

"All right, Anton. This is how it is. You're going to get sober. Now it can be here, you drinking this coffee and eating this sandwich or we'll take you to a nice quiet spot and do it there, the hard way."

For a moment, McQueen thought Terrilli was going to push it, he sat so rigid and glared at them both so hard. The fight vanished abruptly and Terrilli slumped back in his chair. "Fine. Give me the coffee and sandwich."

Ten minutes later, the sandwich was gone and so were three cups of coffee.

"Ok, Anton. What else started you on this self-destructive kick?" Silver leaned back in her chair. "Spill it."

Never looking up, Terrilli said, "I saw something."

"Where?"

"My quarters."

"What did you see?"

Fists clenched, Terrilli glared up at Lysa. "Dammit, Lysa, I Saw something."

Puzzled by way Terrilli had repeated the words, McQueen glanced at Silver and saw that she had reacted to it. Her brow was furrowed and she no longer looked angry with Terrilli. He turned to Monty, who had finished his coffee and was inspecting the now empty coffee pot. "Sergeant, why don't you get a refill on the coffee?" He handed over his debit card.

"Yes, sir."

As soon as Monty was far enough away, Silver said in a soft voice, "What was it?"

"My things in the room, like I would do them. Only someone was taking them down and it wasn't me. It wasn't anyone from the squad. I didn't know the hands."

"You're sure? Positive it was no one you knew?" Silver leaned over, nearly hissing the words.

"Absolutely." Terrilli's hands started to shake. "I knew then, this would be my last ship. There would be no more transfers."

Abruptly, Silver sat back. "All right, Anton. Look at me." When he turned his eyes toward her, she motioned for McQueen to intercept Monty.

Rising, McQueen saw Monty on the way back. "Better get another cup, sergeant." He took the coffee pot from Monty.

Terrilli had a glazed look to his eyes and Silver looked suddenly tired, McQueen noted as he turned around. As he sat down, she looked over at him. "I'll explain later. Make sure Monty gets him to bed. I'll see you at Glen's."

"Ok."

She stood up and squeezed his shoulder, not embarrassing him before the room.

He watched her walk over to where the 5-8 sat in their usual poker game and touch Russell and St. John on the shoulder. The two men nodded and St. John reached over to Finch, who had just thrown her hand down, in apparent disgust. Finch nodded and frowned at her cards as if willing them to become better.

Looking back at Terrilli as Monty approached, McQueen saw that Terrilli still had a dazed look about him. He took the debit card and cup, handed to him with a quiet "Sir," and filled it with coffee, watching Monty refill Terrilli's cup. The sergeant sat down quietly beside Terrilli.

"Sergeant, is there a problem?" asked McQueen after a long moment of silence.

Startled, the sergeant looked at McQueen. "No, sir."

"Then why have you gone quiet?"

"Tired, sir. I've been riding herd on the squad for thirty-seven hours. It's catching up to me." Monty drank some of his coffee.

"It looks like he could use some sleep, too."

"Bed's the last place I want to go right now," Terrilli said quietly, his eyes once more riveted on his drink.

"What have you been doing for the last day?" asked McQueen.

"Wrestling with demons." Terrilli sighed. "But you're probably right. Bed is the best place for me. I've had too much to drink and if the Chigs attack..." He looked up at McQueen, eyes no longer glazed or dazed. "Did our ships get here?"

"Yes. Deck 14, Section H, starboard side." McQueen shook his head. "Three quarters of the squadrons onboard would kill you for those ships. Only a handful of folks have gotten new ships. How did you swing new ships?"

Terrilli shrugged diffidently. "Our ships were in bad shape. Air leaks, bad landing gear, a lot of other problems. We didn't have a repair crew on the Gettysburg. We haven't had ships to fly in for two months."

"What?" McQueen couldn't help the surprised question. "But you're pilots. Why not?"

"AreoTech," said Terrilli heavily. "They haven't been keeping up with the demand for new ships. Or parts."

"Shit."

"Yeah, that sums it up nicely." Terrilli laughed softly, bitterly. "We've been stuck doing grunt work for so long, I don't know how well we'll fly."

"Great. We have seven Hammerheads on the sidelines right now needing parts. We're down to only eight replacements." McQueen straightened. "I'll have to look into this."

"Someone might listen to you. They sure as hell haven't been listening to me." Terrilli drank his entire cup in one go. "Well, Monty, old man, whenever you're ready to tuck me in, I'm ready. Night, McQueen."

McQueen gave Monty a concerned look as Terrilli rose and started walking out.

"He's been having really bad nightmares the last several months. I've been sleeping on the floor in his quarters for ten weeks now. I'm the only one who can break the grip the nightmares have on him."

"What about missions?"

"They never show up on a mission. Just ship board." Monty got up and nodded farewell to McQueen. "Night, sir."

"Night, Monty."

Finishing off his coffee, McQueen gathered up the pot and cups, took them to the bar, and headed for Ross' quarters, seeing that the trio had already vanished from the Tunn.

After forty minutes of using the commodore's computer to check into Terrilli's statements, McQueen sat back in frustration. "What the hell does AeroTech think it's doing? Without ships, ammo, and parts, how the hell do they expect us to win the war?"

Ross sat, strumming his guitar, Rosalyn, having listened to his friend read information to him. He sighed heavily. "Have you considered the possibility that-"

"That AeroTech doesn't want us to win the war?" McQueen shuddered. "I've been desperately trying not to think about that. But I can see what they would gain."

"What would they gain, Ty?" Ross stopped his fingers, looking up at McQueen, concern in his eyes.

"If the Chigs didn't commit genocide and merely confined us to the Sol system or, even worse, just to Earth, AeroTech would have control. Every man, woman, child and Invitro would be under their thumb." McQueen's shoulders tightened just from the thought.

"I think I'd rather die out here than go back to that scenario." Ross strummed a discordant A minor and shuddered. "A life controlled by those bastards isn't a life." He looked at McQueen. "As you know."

"Yes."

A knock sounded and McQueen rose to open the door, feeling Silver on the other side. She looked better as she entered. "I got Terrilli to talk a bit."

"Whatever he said has you worried." She reached up and stroked his jaw.

"Damn right."

"Hi, Glen." She walked up and squeezed Ross' shoulder. Sitting down in the third chair, she said, "Ok, shoot. What's up?"

She sat grim-faced when McQueen finished. "Damn. That tallies with what the trio reported to me. They spent some time talking to Blackie and Leon. Apparently Anton was nearly killed when his Hammerhead's air supply developed a leak. Fortunately, he was on approach. He managed to land, but was unconscious when his pit was brought into the bay. Poor Anton."

"No wonder he's having nightmares." A shiver ran through McQueen.

"Nightmares?" Silver looked at him sharply.

"At least for the last ten weeks."

"Damn. He's worse off than I thought." Silver leaned forward, head in her hands. "Damn. Damn."

"Worse off than you thought? What are you talking about?" McQueen sat straight. "Is he a danger to the ship?"

"No. Only to himself." Sitting up, she said, "He's having visions of the future, only unfortunately for him, it's only of his death. Hakur's trying to warn him about something relating to his death, but he's not receptive enough to get the entire message. And no one else can get it. He has to figure it out himself." Leaning back in her seat, Silver said softly, "I wonder if Grif's in the area."

"What can he do?" McQueen's eyes narrowed.

"He can give Anton what I can't. Anton needs a vampire, one who can help him sort this out and I'm not the one to do it. Grif, on the other hand, he can do it. He's handled cases like Anton before."

"What do you mean, Anton needs a vampire?" Ross looked at her, hard.

"He's a remal and I'd say he's been without one for nearly four years. Not a good situation under normal circumstances, but, in this case, very bad. He needs Blood and help from a vampire." As McQueen started to speak, she said, "Like I said, he's not dangerous to anyone but himself. And he's especially safe to fly. He knows he's not going to die in space. It's in the mud that he'll die, in someone's arms. That much he knows."

"He'll take risks then when he's flying."

"No. Russell said that from what Blackie mentioned, Anton's been flying even more reined in than normal. Of course, with the last two months not flying, but doing only ground missions, I suspect Anton needs a good space battle to clear his head."

"That will help him keep control?" Ross set Rosalyn aside on her stand.

"Yes. So, if you don't mind, I think I'll send for Grif." She faced Ross squarely.

"Do it. I don't want Terrilli unfit for duty. We're going to need every man who can fly in the near future, I think."

"Lysa, what did you do to Terrilli?" asked McQueen, aware that she might not want to explain in front of Ross.

"I blurred his memory, with his permission. Another one of the vampire legend mysteries. The so-called hypnotism." She shook her head. "It's not really. If we have permission, we can make the suggestion that thinking about something is unpleasant so you don't tend to think about it. By blurring his memory of the visions, he won't be so wound up from them and might be able to get some rest. It's not permanent, just a temporary solution until he can get help from Grif. Sometimes, if someone finds out about us and reacts unfavorably, it's been done, both for their protection and ours. Then by the time it wears off, they've forgotten what was so wrong about that person." She grimaced. "It's not something we do lightly. So, that should give you an idea about the seriousness of Anton's situation."

"Hell." Ross sighed. "Ok. Go make your call. The sooner the better."

"I think I'll send it now. Ty, I'll see you in my quarters?"

The way she phrased it brought his head up. "What? Do you think finding out this is going to change my mind? Hell no. I'll be there in a few mikes. I just want to talk to Glen about something else."

"Ok." At the door, she turned and said, "You might draft a message to MacIntyre. Signed by the three of us, it'll get his attention."

"That was exactly what I was thinking." McQueen smiled at her.

"I know." With that, she left.

"What, is she mind-reading you now?" demanded Ross.

"No, she's just gotten to know the way I think." McQueen smiled at his friend of many years. "Let's work out a draft of what we want to tell MacIntyre. We'll polish it in the morning."

"Sounds good."

McQueen let himself into Silver's quarters an hour later, hoping she wouldn't be angry with his lateness. He found her stretched out on the bed, eyes closed. He sat down in the chair beside the bed and shut his eyes, determined to do his nightly exercises. Picturing the bond between them as a thread, he slowly enlarged it into a rope, stretching his mind's eyes down its length toward her end.

Amusement and satisfaction colored his awareness and he grinned, knowing she wasn't asleep. Before opening his eyes, he narrowed the rope back to a thread. "Ok, how was that?"

"Very deftly done. Told you if you practiced, you'd be able to do it." She rolled onto her back, eyes still closed.

He felt the link between them open again and moaned at the need and want she projected. "I'm coming," he said, rising and stripping out of his flight suit.

As he made slow, leisurely love to her, he allowed himself to drown in the sensations created by the both of them allowing the other to feel the pleasure created. The feedback loop between the two of them nearly drowned out the sudden klanging of the klaxons.

"Shit!" He rolled off her, groin hard and aching, reaching for his discarded clothes.

"Do you want to fly?" She was dressing as fast as him.

Shorts and tank top on, he slammed his feet into the flight suit. "Like I want to go on the bridge in this state?" Her amusement at the idea caressed him and his anger cooled slightly. He shoved a foot into a boot and started lacing. "I'll fly, love. You just let us know if you see any more of those damn Super anything ships."

"Ok." She started putting on her boots. "You know if you beat me this time, I'll cancel your buying dinner for the entire squad."

"You're on." He started lacing up the second boot. "And if you win?" His groin tightened further as she let him feel her lust for him. "I get the picture. I'll gladly pay up."

"Better get a move on. Or the squad'll be there before you are."

"That wouldn't do." He reached over to where she was lacing up her last boot and kissed her. "Later."

"Later."

As he slipped on his helmet, still settling down into the cockpit seat, he smiled on hearing Silver's voice. "Squadrons 4-4, 6-4, 1-38, you are cleared for launch."

"Diamond Queen, 5-8 all present and accounted for," reported Vansen as 'Phousse clambered into her cockpit.

"Launch when ready then, 5-8. So who was tail end Charlie today?"

"Looks like it was Ace today." Vansen grinned over at McQueen, aware that it had almost been him.

"Good hunting, 5-8. Looks like there are plenty for all."

With that, McQueen signalled the flight crews that they were ready to descend to their ships. The flight crews ran out as the lights flashed and he took several deep breaths, calming himself for the battle to come.

He watched the Chig fighters break off, their triangular ships wheeling gracefully and disappearing into the depths of space.

"All fighters, break off engagements. Return to base."

"Roger that, Diamond Queen."

Getting out of the cockpit, he threw his helmet into the seat with a scowl, deep in thought. "Why the hell did they break off? They still outnumbered us."

"They received some sort of signal just before they took off," came Silver's voice from beside him.

He reached out to her and gripped her arm, smiling slightly at the sight of her. "A signal? I wonder what it means?"

"Don't know and we didn't catch enough of it for it to be worthwhile trying to translate." Silver sighed. "Looks like something's up with them though."

West paused as he was walking past. "I just want to know where the hell all the Chigs are coming from. They sure as hell aren't getting them all from that moon."

"No way they could be doing that." Hawkes frowned, stopping. "Do you think they've found someplace else to start having their babies or whatever?"

"Seems likely, Hawkes." Silver sighed. "Why don't you go get cleaned up and get some sleep. You have simulators in the morning. 0900." She smiled at the rest of the squad, standing and listening. "Remind Wang about them."

"Night." West led the way as the rest of the squad followed him.

"Night." McQueen waited until the squad was gone before wrapping his arm around Silver. "So, about losing the bet?"

She smiled, pushing at his chest. "With all that armor on?"

"It'll be the fastest armor losing in history," he whispered.

"Oh, shall I time you?"

"I'll never get it off then."

Running her hand up his chest to his throat, she said, "Meet me at the observation dome."

"On your six, just watch." He trotted off, headed for the locker room.

God, he was fantastic to watch, Silver thought to herself, watching him move.

"Colonel."

"Yes, Randall?" Silver turned to face the Warrant Officer.

"Are you going to be flying a sortie any time soon?" The man stood nearly as tall as her, his stocky body reflecting his tiredness. "You haven't flown a mission in four months, begging your pardon."

"Next one, Randall." She smiled. "Thanks for worrying. I just hate to take his fun away."

"I know what you mean. He really loves the flying. It's in his blood. The day he came back from his first flight after you took him to Earth, you could see the joy in every muscle." Randall smiled softly. "I've enjoyed working with him. He understands the craft, no, he knows the craft, as well as I do."

"He's spent a lot of time in them, Randall. I better get going. Tomorrow I plan on a bit of dogfighting between the squad and the 1-38."

Randall smiled. "You'll nail them to the wall, ma'am."

"Thanks for the confidence."

Silver headed for the observation dome.

McQueen arrived at the observation dome and frowned on seeing the 'No Admittance' signs on both entrances. The first door he tried was unlocked and, out of curiosity, he tried the other. It was locked. Back at the first door, he hesitated before opening it, but she had said to meet her here. He reached out along the link and felt her on the other side of the door. With a shake of his head, he opened the door. The lights were extremely dim as he entered, but he could make out a single figure against the starlight.

"Lock the door, Ty."

"Lysa, why the signs?" He tested the door after it shut.

"I asked Glen before I came down to meet you. He said it would be all right."

He walked up and wrapped his arms around her, discovering she had shed her flight suit and stood only in a tank top and shorts. "Planning on giving an exhibition?" he whispered in her ear.

"Any one who wants to look in is welcome to watch. I plan on making love to you right here. Under the light of the stars." She turned around in his arms and slid her arms around his neck, kissing him lovingly.

As he responded, she started unfastening his flight suit until he stood dressed as she did. She trailed kisses down his throat, mouthing and licking across his visible pulse as he tossed his head back, and shoved his top up, exposing his nipples. One by one, she licked and nipped them until he moaned aloud. Down his flat, hard, smooth stomach, following the fine line of hairs to his shorts, tented by his erection.

Breath catching as she mouthed him through the rough fabric, he entwined his fingers in her hair, moaning softly. By the time she peeled the shorts down revealing him, he felt as though he was going to explode at any second. "I need you now, Sa."

"That's what I wanted, love."

She slid up his body and he realized that she had somehow managed to get out of her shorts already. With a groan of desire, he picked her up and set her gently on the floor, keeping himself in control with an effort. He felt between her legs and found she was more than ready for him.

"Now, Ty, now." She reached up and grabbed his head, pulling him up to her for a hungry kiss. "Now."

"Yes." He positioned himself and slid in easily, a soft sigh of pleasure escaping at the sensation of her surrounding him again.

Her mouth returned to his throat and he started thrusting into her, losing himself in the rhythm. Moments later, she came, freeing his throat as he followed her. They sank down onto the carpet, cuddling together, illuminated by the cold starlight. From the nearest chair, she pulled a blanket and covered them both with a soft smile. She kissed his tired cheek and snuggled against him, content for the moment.

As she expected, he woke her, trapped in a nightmare. She held his thrashing body and reached along the bond to soothe his mental anguish. Slowly, the nightmare's tight grip loosened and he sagged in her arms, breathing hard, his hands releasing their frantic hold on her hips. He let her pull him close and buried his face in her shoulder, wrapping his arms around her.

"Managed to nip that one in the bud, love. No screaming." She stroked the back of his head and neck.

He gave an unamused snort. "Much longer and I would have been." He took a deep breath. "There are times I really hate my past."

"Three in the morning especially."

He groaned. "Especially then."

Her hands roamed further down his body to cup his firm buttocks. "Shall we exercise your demons then, love?"

Putting his leg over her hip, he kissed her shoulder. "You certainly know how to make me feel better." He slid his hand down her front, caressing.

"All part of being married, Ty. Helping one another."

"So you keep telling me. Don't stop." As he nuzzled her throat, he couldn't help thinking how different Lysa was from his first wife, Amy. His nightmares had scared the hell out of Amy and he had come home one night to find two beds instead of one in the bedroom. She had refused to sleep in the same bed with him again though making love was allowed. Lysa, on the other hand, continued to support him and help him deal with his nightmarish past.

"Just like I'll never stop saying I love you, Ty." Her hand curled around his hardening cock, making him moan.

"I love you, Lysa."

The stars watched, cold and distant, as the two drove each other to the heights before curling back up under the blanket, spent and tired.

Softly, she whispered in his ear, "Sorry, love, but it's time to get up. We need to vacate the premises in ten mikes."

"What time is it?" He flung an arm over his eyes.

"0550, love. Glen said we had to leave by 0600 or he wouldn't let us do this again." She smiled at the rapidity with which he rolled onto his hands and knees. "I take it, you like the idea?"

"Yes." On his feet, he held out his hand to her. Once she was standing, he kissed her, holding her tight to him. "I love you, Lysa Silver McQueen."

"And I love you, Tyrus Cassius McQueen." Caressing his cheek, she said, "Come on. Let's get dressed. If we hurry, we might have enough time to have fun, shower, dress and still get to the mess by 0645."

"Let's see."

Looking up from his breakfast, Wang smiled on seeing his superiors striding quickly into the mess. He heard McQueen saying, with a touch of laughter in his voice, "Ha, 0646. You were off by a whole mike."

"Well, if someone hadn't-" Silver's eyes sparkled as she reached out to run her fingers lightly over McQueen's ribs.

"Don't say it." Grinning, McQueen squeezed her hand and turned to the chow line.

As the two officers started gathering up their food, Wang glanced over at Hawkes and 'Phousse. "Hard to imagine him relaxed enough to be like that, huh?"

'Phousse nodded, smiling. "But it's nice to see. I think he's starting to feel secure about himself and his place in the universe."

"What?" Hawkes stared at 'Phousse, a forkful of scrambled powdered eggs almost to his mouth.

"Just like I said, Hawkes. I mean, look at him." Picking up some of her own food, she took a bite as Hawkes did as she asked. "Doesn't he look relaxed?"

"Yes." Hawkes drew the word out, obviously thinking. "You think he'll stop caring about us?" His brow drew down in a frown as he set his fork down.

"No, Coop, he won't. We're his kids, no matter what happens." 'Phousse patted his arm. "Don't worry about it. I'm just glad to see that he's really happy."

"Same here," said Wang, putting his fork down on his empty plate. "Everyone needs someone to care about them in particular over anyone else. For some, it takes a bit longer than others." He risked a quick glance at 'Phousse and smiled as he saw her look at him.

"You saying that someone will like me too?"

Wang grinned at the eagerness in Hawkes' voice. "Someday, Coop, you'll find that person. Don't worry."

"Paul, do you think you'll be able to handle the sims today?"

"I'll do my best." He flexed his right hand, feeling the tautness in the tendons still. "But I don't think I'm there yet. After all, Jake said it would be six months more and likely before I would be able to do it."

"Never hurts to keep trying."

"No worries there, Vanessa. The only way I'll know if I'm making progress is to keep trying." He picked up his orange juice. "After all, four months ago, I was barely able to hold a glass in order to have a drink."

"You're making progress on every run, Paul." Hawkes pointed with his fork, eggs falling onto the table. As he hurriedly cleaned up the mess, he said, "I mean, you're up to a full circuit now, aren't you?"

"Yes. That's better than I did a month ago. I can even jog a couple of steps." Wang picked up a small piece of egg that had fallen near his plate. "Now, why don't you finish eating, Coop? We still need to go clean up our gear before the simulators."

"Have you gotten yours refitted?" asked 'Phousse, finishing her food.

"Quartermaster issued me a second set on the colonel's orders. I'll be trading it in as necessary. Once I'm able to fly again, then I'm to have my set refitted."

"Get the lead out, Hawkes." Stepping up beside Hawkes, Vansen frowned slightly. "You know the colonels wanted us to make sure our gear was in good shape before the simulations."

"I'm eating, I'm eating!" Hawkes started shoveling food into his mouth.

"Slow down, Coop," laughed 'Phousse. "A couple of mikes won't make a large difference. We don't want you to choke."

Sheepishly, Hawkes slowed down.

"Why do you think we need to have the gear in shape?" Leaning back, sipping the last of her coffee, 'Phousse spared the two colonels eating heartily a look. "Shane, do you think she's going to fly a mission with us soon?"

"Hope so or she'll lose her rating. But she was only cleared for flying two months ago. Three weeks of that was spent on leave. She's been doing the simulator time the last four weeks, except for the time after..." Vansen pulled her own gaze from Silver, remembering how the woman had looked on being rescued.

Wang said, quietly, "You know, she might be doing it on purpose. Letting him fly all the missions like she has."

"Why?" Hawkes looked up from the last of his food.

"Because she's giving him space, letting him feel like Colonel McQueen, not just an extension of her." Vansen nodded. "Could be. But it works both ways, and she's a damn good pilot. I'd like to have her flying with us sometimes."

"Isn't that Colonel Terrilli?" Wang nodded toward the man entering the mess. "Looks like he had a rough night."

"Nathan said the man put away at least three scotches last night." From her seat, 'Phousse gave Terrilli a curious look. "You know, something's wrong with him."

"Seeing auras again, Vanessa?" asked Wang softly.

She shook her head. "No, it's just a feeling I have. Like he knows something bad, but can't tell it. I think we better be careful around him."

"Ok." Vansen nodded once. "Are we ready now?"

Hawkes rose, empty tray in hand. "I'm ready."

As the squad left, Wang gave the man sitting down on Silver's left a puzzled look. Seeing McQueen notice, he nodded and left for the locker room and his borrowed flight gear.

His food finished, McQueen watched the squad leave, wondering why Wang had been looking over at their table, puzzled.

"Anton, go eat. You need a meal under your belt." Silver shoved Terrilli's chair toward the chow line. "I intend to dogfight you at 1100 and I don't want any 'low blood sugar' excuses."

Managing a weak grin, Terrilli rose. "Right, Queenie. We'll see who pleads for surrender."

As Terrilli walked away, McQueen raised an eyebrow. "Queenie?"

"The 112th was the Stacked Deck. I was the queen of the lot, hard as diamond, they joked. So I became Diamond Queen." She shrugged. "Terrilli's lot, they like messing with names. They called me Queenie."

"I don't even want to think of what they'll call me." He frowned slightly. "What can they do to Queen Six?" His eyes held an anxious look.

"I know one, but if they call you it, I'll take them down a few pegs. And they know I can."

"Ok." He looked at her, curiously. "What?"

She said it in a low, breathy voice. "Sexy."

His eyes widened as he took a deep breath, feeling himself react to the word and her tone. "Dammit, Lysa. I have to get up and walk out of here."

She grinned. "I know, but it can wait a few mikes." Patting his arm, she glanced over at Terrilli. "As you heard me call him last night, he's Torch. Blackie is Blaze. Raddie is Spark. Leon is Blitz. Jinx is Flare. Dobbs is Sizzle." She caressed McQueen with her eyes. "Now, we have our own gear to see to."

"Unfortunately, that's not the gear I want to use." His eyes darkened to deep sapphire.

"Come on, we have work to do."

Following her out of the mess, McQueen missed the appreciative nods given by many of the officers. His perceptible relaxation over the last month had led to more of his fellow officers coming to understand him better and, with that understanding, most admired him more than they had.

Unaware of the general perception of him lately, McQueen grumbled all the way down the elevator to Deck 14 until Silver let him feel her arousal, then he quieted down. By the time they reached the locker room, he was ready to buckle down and get to work.

The squad glanced up as they entered and before Vansen could call them to attention, McQueen held up his hand. "We're all here as fellow pilots. Let's just get busy."

By the time 0900 rolled around, everyone's gear, after much swearing and tom-foolery, had been checked, double checked and re-outfitted as necessary to ensure continued fit. As he fought with Wang's borrowed gear for the second time, McQueen acknowledged that it had been fun to be admitted to the camaraderie among the squad. Before, he had merely stood aside and watched them, not indulging in the fun, no matter how much he had wanted to. His worries that they would not know where to draw the line regarding his rank had proved unfounded.

Watching McQueen mutter under his breath trying to get a buckle to cooperate on Wang's gear, Silver spared him a soft look. It continued to surprise her that he hadn't realized the depth of love these Marines felt for him. Over the last month, she had watched as the 58th's members learned the new limits to their relationship with McQueen. Mostly she knew the original members kept a close eye on how she and the trio related, seeing how the trio treated her in different situations.

This time, the trio had been pure mischief, trying to steal her equipment. And she had let them, she admitted it to herself. It had added spice to an otherwise normally dull time. Her attempts to catch them were half-hearted and they knew it. She had allowed it to go on unchecked until McQueen had asked for her needle-nose pliers and they were nowhere to be found. Her growl of displeasure had brought St. John rushing over with the tool, saying, "Sorry, colonel."

"The funning stops when someone else needs it," she had snapped. "Fifty."

The trio had dropped to the deck and given her fifty push-ups before resuming their work.

The rest of the squad had watched as McQueen laughed softly at some of their jokes, enjoyed Wang's impersonations of some of the other squads and various people he had to work with on a regular basis, and didn't cut himself off from them as had been his wont. They had watched with amazement as when Hawkes threw a filthy rag at West for a particularly bad sheep joke and West had ducked, the rag had hit McQueen in the back of the head. Reaching back, McQueen had taken the rag, wadded it up and thrown it... at West. "I agree with Hawkes on that one, West. Baaa...aad." His imitation of a sheep had the other members laughing.

"All right, Wang, that should do it. I think the buckle will work smoothly now." The object of her thoughts stood up and shook his head at Wang's gear. "I've never seen equipment so difficult to fit."

"It's only temporary is the problem," West said. His gear in hand, he looked up at McQueen. "So, sir, are we going to be using this today?"

"Yes. In the simulators." McQueen grinned at the groans. "And in space. We're dogfighting the 138th at 1100. I expect us to show them why we're the best."

'Phousse glanced at Silver. "Colonel, are you going to fly with us, too?"

"Yes." Silver smiled as she saw the grins on the squad.

"All right!" Hawkes danced in place. "We'll cream them."

"Be warned that for various exercises, some of us will have to sit on the sidelines. After all, there are nine of us flying and only six of them," McQueen warned.

"Some day there'll be ten of us," muttered Wang, scowling fiercely at his right hand as he flexed it over and over.

Resting her hand on his shoulder, Silver said to him, "Yes, there will be."

Wang flashed her a grateful smile.

"It's 0855, people. We have only two hours on the simulators," barked McQueen.

"Yes, sir!"

Wang reluctantly parted company with the squad after the simulators. He watched them head for the stairs down while he stood at the elevator to go up two decks. Chewing his lip, he turned his back on the elevator and walked over to the stairs, cane in hand. The cane moved to his forearm as he struggled up the stairs, pulling himself up with his other hand. Sweat drenched him by the time he climbed the two flights of stairs. Chest heaving, he paused, legs feeling like wet noodles.

"Out of the way!" snarled a Navy man, shoving Wang aside.

Left leg crumpling under him, Wang grabbed frantically for the handrail. His right hand failed to grip tightly and he felt himself tumbling backwards.

"Grab him!" bellowed a voice vaguely familiar to Wang.

Hands caught him before he hit more than four steps. "All right, lad, we've got you. Can you get your feet under you?"

Shaking, Wang struggled to shift his feet under him and felt tears of frustration as they moved ever so slowly.

"Hold him. Someone get his cane. It slid down a bit. Ok, lad, I'm going to help you a bit."

A pair of hands slid down his calf to his ankle and eased his foot down so it was under him. The other foot was moved down as well.

"Ok, try standing up, lad."

The hands continued to support him and Wang put his weight on his legs once more. Weak and trembling, they at least took his weight and he blindly took the cane someone pressed into his hand, leaning heavily on it.

"Bloody junior!" growled a voice. "Needs his ears pinned back."

"He barges through here every day the same way." Another voice complained.

"Then we better teach him some manners. Anyone with eyes could see Lt. Wang here and his cane." The first voice spoke angrily.

"Thank you for your help." Wang reached for the railing.

"We'll just keep you company until you're safely up and out of the way of such bozos."

The hands released him and Wang painfully fought his way back up the stairs. This time he stepped to the side of the opening and turned to see who his benefactors were. Three sergeants stared back at him, one of them Monty. "I... I thank you, sirs, for keeping me from falling further."

Monty nodded to the other two. "Brooks and Rich here actually caught you."

"Thank you. It would have been a rather nasty fall otherwise."

"Well, Lieutenant, it would have been a shame to have you splattered all over the stairway. Especially since you're still recovering from the last nasty bit of body work done on you." Sgt. Brooks smiled. "Monty, we'll see you after lunch. We're going to start some inquiries."

As the other two sergeants walked away, Wang said, "Inquiries? Surely not about this, sir. It was just an accident. I was in the wrong place."

"Yes about this. It's not the first time that lieutenant has barreled someone over." Monty touched Wang's arm lightly. "Let's get you to your office."

"How do you know that's where I'm going?" Wang started walking, feeling muscles in his back complaining.

Matching Wang's slow pace, Monty answered, "I took an interest in you when I saw you yesterday with the cane. I asked some quiet questions and found out about you." He hesitated before saying, "If you're willing to accept some help, lad, I might be able to help you recover faster. I've been laid up myself and know a few exercises to strengthen muscles you can do in a chair."

"Sergeant, I would gladly accept anything you offer." Wang grimaced at his legs and right hand. "I hate this helplessness." He tried not to let the bitterness out.

"And you hate feeling like you're a burden to your friends."

Wang glanced over at the sergeant and saw the understanding. "Yes. I feel like I'm holding them back. They're doing their best not to treat me like an invalid, but I can see it sometimes in their eyes. They hesitate to ask me to join them in some activities. I hate myself then and wonder why the hell am I here."

"You're here because you belong here. Even I can see that. You're a Marine officer who's seen the elephant and you have to keep on fighting it, however you can. That's a good thing." Monty laid his hand gently on Wang's lower back. "I'll help you get back in the fight."

"Thank you." Wang stopped walking and pulled his keycard out to unlock his office door.

"I can show you those exercises now if you like."

"Please, sergeant."

"Call me Monty."

"I'm Paul."

Monty grinned. "So, what exercises are you doing now?" He took a seat while Wang busied himself going through paperwork dropped off during the night. When Wang finished the list of exercises, Monty shook his head. "Sounds like you have an exceptionally good PT."

"Should be. It's Colonel Silver's brother. In fact the only reason I'm able to walk now is due to her family taking an interest in me."

"And you would like to pay her and them back somehow."

"Eventually. The colonel and her brother both say they'll be satisfied with just my being able to function as a Marine again."

"We'll work on it, lad. Now, do you have that little squeeze ball handy?"

From his pocket, Wang pulled the indicated ball. "I carry it with me at all times and use it every time I think about it. Not that it helped today."

"In time. I know it's rough, but you will get stronger. Now, try this."

By the time Monty left twenty minutes later, Wang had four new exercises to work with and a scheduled swimming session with the sergeant.

Silver watched the twelve fighters twisting and dodging about, noting that the 138th seemed to have settled down since the battle during the night. They fought more like she remembered, wild and stubbornly independent yet always coming to each others' aid. Even so, the 5-8 held the lead with more kills. Perhaps she would see about making this a weekly exercise.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five - 2 Souls Bound Page 19

Disclaimer: The names of all 'Space: Above and Beyond' characters contained herein are the property of Glen Morgan and James Wong, Hard Eight Productions and the Fox Broadcasting Network. These names have been used without their permission. All else is my own creation.

Rating: NC17 Language, violence and graphic sex.

Spoilers: None

Warning: Sex, Language.

Author: Vasalysa, with many undying thanks to Geek.

E-mail: 

2 Souls Bound

Chapter Five

Sprinting for the cover of some fallen logs, McQueen swore repeatedly, wondering where the hell his backup had vanished to. Green plasma bolts sizzled past his head and he ducked, swerving to the left. He could hear the rest of the squad pounding along to either side of him. Throwing himself over the fallen logs, he tucked and rolled, coming up with his M-590 at the ready, facing back the way he had just come.

"Son of a bitch," snarled West, crashing to his own landing to McQueen's left. "Where's backup?" He rapidly turned around, shedding his backpack.

"Good question," Russell snapped, throwing himself down and rolling around, yanking his rifle up.

Sighting over the fallen logs, McQueen found the first of his targets out of the twenty or so Chigs crashing through the underbrush toward him. Firing steadily, he heard Vansen situating herself to his left beyond West. St. John remained silent on the far side of Russell, paired with Finch, both of them calmly firing at the Chigs.

The first wave of Chigs downed, McQueen signaled Finch. "Call them and find out where the hell they are!"

"Where's Silver when you need her?" muttered West.

"Yeah, I'd like to see her, Hawkes and 'Phousse come charging through here about now," Russell said, taking some deep breathes.

"Sir, no reply."

"Roger," McQueen acknowledged Finch's report. "Look alive, folks. We have another twenty or thirty irate Chigs headed our way." He yanked the partially spent clip and slapped a new one in, tucking the other one into his left breast pocket. The sounds of other clips being replaced reached his ears over the next several seconds. "Fix bayonets." His k-bar locked into its slot with a snick and he could hear the sound repeated.

He took a deep, calming breath and peered between the logs. All thirty Chigs were headed right for them. "Dammit," he swore under his breath. "Where the hell are they?"

Sliding along his bond with Silver, he knew she, along with Hawkes and 'Phousse, was a mile to the southwest, right where she was supposed to be. Terrilli, with Jinx and Raddie, should be a corresponding distance to the northwest. The rest of the 138th was supposed to be here, providing him and the 5-8 back up and cover. He was going to be ripping some new ones when he found them, assuming he lived through the next five minutes.

Judging the distance to be about right for maximum affect from their rifles, McQueen snapped, "Fire!"

Ten Chigs actually made it up to and over the logs. No longer able to fire in case the slugs tore through the Chig armor and shot one of the squad, the 5-8 lunged at the Chigs, ready to battle face to face.

By the time the last Chig collapsed, turning into green goo, five minutes later, McQueen felt as though an hour had gone by. He wiped the green spooge off his face and limped over to where West leaned against the logs, holding his left thigh.

"It's just a nasty cut, sir." West tried to grin, but grimaced. "Would be nice if our medic were here about now, though."

"Yeah, with our bleeding backup." Russell walked over and crouched beside West. "We can bandage it up before we move on."

West fingered a cut on Russell's ribs. "Looks like you could do with some repair work too."

"Those Chig hackers are nasty things. If they hit you straight on, your bone's shattered." Russell shook his head. "Trick is to be able to make it bounce or slide off." He took his pack off and started going through it. "Difficult to do."

McQueen snapped his head up, wincing as he put weight on his bruised and cut left leg. He could hear a male voice, filled with disgust and anger, coming closer from behind.

"Dammit, woman! They're over this way. If I find those three jar heads, I'm going to shoot them. I swear I will." Monty appeared, dragging Jade by her arm. "There, what did I tell you? And they need your services." He slung Jade around so that she stumbled and nearly fell under the weight of her medical pack.

Jade gave the area a quick look and stared at the piles of green armor filled with green spooge. "Are... are those... Chigs?"

"They were." Russell didn't look over at her. "Look, he needs stitches, medic." He was holding together both sides of the three inch gash.

"Y... yes, I can see that." Hurriedly, Jade slipped off her pack and yanked out a box with a large red cross on it. When she started talking, it was with cool professionalism. "Sit down, West. Take the weight off the leg. What other injuries are there?"

Seeing all but St. John heading over to Jade, McQueen pointed to St. John. "Watch."

"Yes, sir." St. John started patrolling the area, staying in sight, keeping a lookout for the enemy.

"What happened, Sergeant?" McQueen dropped his voice, tugging Monty over to the side away from the others.

"I don't have a bleeding idea, sir. Something startled the doctor; she started running, damned near straight east. I told the three to stay put while I chased her down. Damned, but that woman can run. I got back here with her a few mikes back and she insisted that this had to be wrong place since Blackie and the other two weren't here. She took off again." Monty shook his head. "As you gather, we just got back."

"Are they usually so irresponsible?"

"No." Monty frowned. "That's what's worrying me. They wouldn't have just up and left under normal circumstances."

"Colonel," called out St. John.

McQueen, ignoring the pain in his leg, and Monty strode over to where St. John crouched. It took only a glance to show that Chigs and Marines had gone to the south. With a frown, McQueen checked the time. "Back to the squad, St. John. We're expecting company any mike." He turned to Monty. "Tuck her in under the logs. It's the best cover we have. Keep her safe. Silver'll have my hide if anything happens to Jade. She's known her since Jade was a kid."

Tightening his grip on his M-590, Monty nodded. "Yes, sir."

Walking back to where the others were, McQueen changed out rifle clips once more. "Heads up. We're expecting company."

Jade protested being pulled off Russell's ribs, but Monty ignored her squawks of indignation as he stuffed her under one of the logs. "Be quiet," he snarled. "You're about to have an up-close view of combat." He positioned himself to cover her.

Turning his attention to matters of survival, McQueen took his position, rifle to his shoulder.

Fifteen Chigs appeared in the underbrush and the shooting began. That wave went down without reaching their logs, but five of the next fifteen did. Three of the next wave succeeded in breaching their position.

By the time the fifth wave managed four over the logs, McQueen was slapping his last full clip into his rifle. The Chigs started crumpling without any of his squad having fired. Exhaustion and relief slumped his shoulders and he leaned his head against the log before him, closing his eyes. Silver and Terrilli had arrived. A hand touched his shoulder lightly and he sighed, knowing it was Silver.

"How bad is it, Ty?" she asked softly.

"Nothing major, just bruises and minor cuts. I managed to avoid the sharp parts." She started working his shoulders and he groaned as the muscles protested. "Ok, throw in some serious tension."

She patted his jaw and he smiled wryly, straightening up as she dropped her hands from his back.

"So, what are the injuries?" Silver asked, glancing up and down the line as he stood up. She frowned on seeing West flat on his back, Jade crouched over his leg.

"-pulled the stitches," growled Jade, ripping the bloody bandages off West's leg.

Vansen stepped up, holding her left forearm against her body, keeping her rifle in her other hand ready. "Sir, everyone's injured with at least cuts."

He looked at her arm.

"I think it's broken. It was throw it in the way of the hacker or let it hit me in the chest." She shrugged. "Finch took a bad gash across the abdomen. St. John has cuts across his left arm and leg. Russell took a blow to the head and took a hacker to the thigh, a lot like West. We're not in the best of shape right now, sir."

"I had gathered that," he said dryly. "It's ok, Shane. At least, we have six reasonably fresh people in case the Chigs come back."

"I don't think they will," Silver said. "They were acting like they were taking orders from someone to start with, but then at the end, they weren't. I'm not sure what happened." Silver turned to face south. "I think our missing three are coming."

"Good. I'm ready to shoot them," snarled Monty, his right sleeve bloody.

"You'll be doing nothing of the sort," Jade snapped. "Sit your ass down here and let me take a look at that arm." She looked over at Vansen as Monty slowly sat down beside West. "I heard you about your arm. If it is broken, I'll have to wait before setting it. Let me get everyone else at least looked at. Try not to move it too much, ok?"

Vansen nodded.

Terrilli stood, facing south, his face hard. His anger was clearly visible.

The underbrush parted as Blackie and Leon struggled through, half carrying a bleeding Dobbs. All three of them were covered in blood and green spooge.

Lowering Dobbs to the ground, Blackie said, "Sorry, colonels. After the doctor dashed off, a Chig officer snuck up behind us. Damn near handed Dobbs his head, only he stood up just in time. Trashed the radio though and cut up his neck pretty bad. The Chig ran off south with some sort of device attached to its helmet. We figured he was radioing the other Chigs and decided to run him down before more Chigs could reach this point. It led us straight into about fifteen Chigs working their way north. We got them all, but Dobbs here, got himself hurt some more." Blackie fingered a gash in his flight suit, high on his right arm. "Leon and I, we took some minor injuries."

"You should have left Dobbs here." Terrilli's voice was cold.

"We did. He followed us." Leon glared down at Dobbs. "But we needed the third body. Otherwise they would have killed us."

"I chased after them, colonel. I should have stayed, but I wanted the son-of-a-bitch." Dobbs' voice was strong, though quiet. "He ruined my collar."

Terrilli closed his eyes, gave a disbelieving snort and a wry half smile. "Damn you, Dobbs. You should have stayed and told Colonel McQueen what the hell was going on. Frankly, all three of you should have stayed until you were able to tell someone."

"But then we would have been hit from two sides," groused Leon.

"But we would have been expecting it." Terrilli still stood stiffly. "Dammit, I'm going to have to think of a suitable punishment for you. You were needed here and you weren't here. Not only is Dobbs injured, but most of the 5-8 will be out of action for several days due to your haring off after the Chig officer."

"And we're nearly out of ammo," snapped Vansen. "I have one clip and two partials left."

"Grand total of three partials for me," Russell said tiredly.

McQueen listened as the rest of the squad admitted to only have two or three partial clips left. He had one full clip in his rifle and three partial clips.

Blackie and Leon glanced around the area, eyes widening as they took in the seventy suits of Chig armor covered with spooge. "We didn't think you'd be facing so many."

"Neither did we, but that's why you were supposed to be here as back up." Terrilli turned to McQueen and Silver. "Since you took the brunt of the force alone, I'll let you determine the punishment for these three."

With a nod, McQueen acknowledged Terrilli's idea. His voice was calm, but tight. "I'll have something suitable by the time Dobbs is out of Sickbay. They'll serve it together."

Silver moved over next to West, eying his blood soaked flight suit leg. "Doing ok, Nathan?" She didn't like the paleness to his face and crouched beside him.

"Hurts like hell, colonel. The painkiller hasn't kicked in yet."

"He can't walk on it, Silver. Not a step." Jade didn't look up from where she was putting a set of butterfly bandages over Russell's rib cut. "Any pressure and it'll rip right open. He's lucky he didn't bleed out more than he did. He needs some Blood in him."

"Bit of a problem with that, Jade," Silver muttered, giving the 138th a glance.

McQueen shifted over so that he was partially blocking Silver and West from view and, at his gesture, Vansen stood beside him, blocking the two further. He gently took her left arm and felt along the bones. "Let's see if it's broken."

"Are you ok with the idea, Nathan?" Silver asked softly.

Just as softly, he replied, "If we can kill the pain and keep me from bleeding to death, oh, yes."

"We'll see what we can do."

His brown eyes met her blue ones anxiously. "Do you need to..."

She shook her head. "No."

"Let's do it then before more Chigs show up."

Silver used a tooth to cut her wrist open and held it to West's mouth. "Take a few swallows, Nathan." He hesitated for a few seconds then put his lips over the blood. Once he had taken the required swallows, she pulled her wrist away. "Close your eyes. Picture your body whole and healthy. Just like we did last time. No bleeding, no pain." She sucked briefly on her wrist and licked it, sealing the injury.

As West's head lolled to the side, Vansen hissed, her eyes on West.

"It's ok, Shane," McQueen said quietly. "He's having to really concentrate on it this time. Last time the injuries were shallow. This is a deep one and it's taking his strength to do it. He'll be fine. Unfortunately, your arm is broken, but on the good side, only one of the bones is broken and it appears to be a simple break."

Jade stood up and finished the blocking job as she turned Vansen toward her slightly. "It could be better, but a simple break will heal faster... especially with a bit of help and bone filler."

Biting her lip, Vansen looked over the doctor's shoulder at Silver who remained crouched beside West. "I'm not sure about the help."

"What? A Marine afraid of a little blood?" Jade shook her head. "That's a shame. It would cut the healing time nearly in half. But suit yourself. I'm not going to be able to do more than splint that until we get aboard the transport."

"I understand." Vansen kept her eyes on West.

Taking a deep breath, West opened his eyes and grinned wryly. "Damn, the pain's down a lot."

"The painkiller's kicked in as well," remarked Jade as Silver moved over to Russell. "Ok, captain, go sit down while I dig out the splint kit." She glanced over at West as Vansen sat down next to the logs. "He's still not going anywhere under his own power."

"And you two are carrying him out of here," Terrilli growled to Leon and Blackie. "Raddie and Jinx can help Dobbs out."

McQueen walked over to where Hawkes and 'Phousse stood near Silver and Russell, shaking their heads at the injuries taken. "We're down to only three healthy members of this squad."

"Sir," Hawkes started, then paused, thinking. "Sir, we've got two days before extraction and twenty miles to cover. Without attracting more attention from the Chigs."

"Don't forget, only one operational radio now." Frowning, 'Phousse shook her head. "We'll be lucky to make it to the LZ with all these injured."

"I am aware of the difficulties." McQueen gave her a pat on the arm to take the sting out of his words. "We'll just have to work it out."

"Hey, don't I get some medical treatment?" Dobbs spoke querulously. He shifted his blood covered hand on his neck.

"In just a moment." Jade finished adjusting where the self-inflating splint sat on Vansen's arm. "This is going to hurt, captain, at least for a while. If you start losing feeling in the tips of your fingers, tell me immediately. I've given you some painkiller, but it shouldn't affect your alertness."

As Jade activated the splint, Vansen said, "As long as the painkiller works, I'll be fine."

"Spoken like a Marine." Jade smiled briefly, her eyes hardening as she looked over at Dobbs. "All right, your turn." Setting her pack down beside Dobbs, she lifted his hand for a few seconds. "You have a nasty cut there. It needs stitches."

"Then do it."

Jade pulled out her box again and set it on the ground. Alcohol on cotton swabs, she quickly cleaned the wound.

"Damned, that hurts." Dobbs pulled away.

"Do you want this taken care of or not?" Jade sat back on her legs, bloody swabs in hand. "Surely you can take a little pain?"

"Fix it up," Dobbs groused.

More alcohol and then Jade brought out a suture needle.

"Hey, what about some anesthetic?" Dobbs jerked away from her in surprise.

"Oh, yes, wasn't thinking about the entirety of the job, now was I?" Jade brought out the topical anesthetic and started to apply it. As she started putting the stitches in a moment later, she said, "By the way, sergeant, I'm sorry I bolted on you. I've never been an outdoors person. I've always been a bit uneasy outside. Something, I'm not sure what, triggered my running off. It won't happen again."

"Hope not, doctor. You can sure run like a rabbit." Monty didn't look up from where he rested on his back, eyes closed.

"I was involved in track during school. I knew I needed the stamina." She finished and put away the equipment. She put an adhesive bandage over the stitches. "There. Don't go turning your head around too violently. Or you'll bleed all over the place."

"Thanks," Dobbs said dryly.

"How long before we start heading back to the LZ, sir?" asked Vansen, still cradling her arm, though the pain lines had smoothed from her brow.

"Fifteen mikes," answered Silver, standing beside McQueen and pointing him down toward the end of the logs, away from Terrilli's squad.

He limped heavily, wincing as the bruised muscles protested the movement. Sitting down with Silver's help, he didn't hide the pain once she blocked the others' view of him. "Damn, it hurts, Lysa. How the hell it managed not to break my leg, I don't know."

"Sure it didn't?" Silver crouched beside him, her hand resting lightly on his injured leg.

"I know what a broken bone feels like, Lysa. And I wouldn't be able to walk on it if it were broken."

"It could be fractured."

"Then I'm in a lot of trouble because I'm going to have to walk on it."

"Well, a little blood should help no matter what the condition." She ran her other hand over his forehead, feeling the sweat and pain lines.

"I'll take anything you give me." He managed a wan smile, reaching up to pull her hand down and kiss the palm.

With an answering smile, she prepared her wrist and held it available. He drank and closed his eyes, letting the blood flow through him, directing it to the places that hurt the most. Letting his head drop to the side, he felt her lower him to the ground and he settled into an almost sleep, ready to wake when the vampiric blood had finished accelerating his healing. He felt her caress his cheek and jaw before moving away slightly, talking to Hawkes it sounded like.

Opening his eyes ten minutes later, he saw that Hawkes now stood near him, keeping an eye on him and protecting him from Terrilli's group. Beyond Hawkes, McQueen could see Silver talking with Terrilli in a low voice.

Hawkes noticed he was awake. "They're working out the marching order. Finch is going to have to help Russell and St. John is going to have to limp along as best he can, probably with Shane. It's basically going to be Terrilli, Monty, Silver, 'Phousse, and me to guard the rest of you and fight off any Chigs we come across."

Grimacing with the unavoidable truth, McQueen stood up, accepting a hand from Hawkes. He tested his leg. It still hurt when he put all of his weight on it, but not as badly. Maybe he had fractured the bone. He shook his head and put the thought aside. There was no alternative. He had to walk out of here.

Silver looked up as he approached. "Better for the rest?"

He nodded, aware that Terrilli's squad still didn't know about vampires and that she wanted it kept that way. "Amazing what a catnap will do."

Ten mikes later, the two squads were on their way, laboring through the underbrush toward their landing zone. Two hours later, McQueen knew the only reason his people kept going was sheer determination. He called a halt, seeing how the various injured folks sank to the ground.

Silver appeared from ahead, nodding. "I had hoped to go another ten mikes, but this is ok. Call a rest whenever you think they need it."

In fits and starts, they wound their way until darkness. A shelter was rigged from tarps and branches for the injured to rest under. Terrilli took it upon himself to cook dinner, hot water for their MREs. Fed, the injured settled down for the night, Silver moving among those who would accept her blood for a further donation.

McQueen was last on the list. She sat beside him and rested her hand on his chest. "Rest, love. I've got first watch."

"Ok. Are you going to hunt?" he asked quietly.

"No. I don't want to leave you for long."

"I'm ok."

"You're better but the others are still hurt. Leaving them would not be a good idea. Don't worry about me. I'll be fine once you are all out of Sickbay."

"Except for Shane."

"It's her choice, love."

"I know."

"Go to sleep, love. I'm right here." She watched as his eyes finally closed, the pain and the accelerated healing having taken a toll on his strength. Her hand stroking his chest, Silver closed her eyes and listened, tuning out the various snores and noises made by the two squads. Even Terrilli and Hawkes slept.

The thought of Hawkes made her smile. He had worked hard this day, traveling the length of the column many times, desperate to make sure his friends, no, make that his family, were managing the distance. He had probably walked four or five times the distance of the others.

Giving McQueen a last pat, Silver rose and moved to the outer edges of their camp, the fire reluctantly put out. After five to six hours, she would wake Terrilli.

The transport from the Saratoga was on time so the Marines had only to wait fifteen minutes for their ride home. Jade instantly had all of the wounded, including McQueen, strapped down on bunks, leaving not enough for the uninjured. With a wry smile, Silver sat down on the floor beside McQueen's bunk, leaning her head back and closing her eyes.

The remainder of the squads sat quietly, too tired to talk.

By the time the transport reached the Saratoga nearly thirty minutes later, the only people awake were the pilot, co-pilot, and Jade. The wounded were quickly taken to Sickbay. Silver and Terrilli sent the uninjured Marines to eat and then quarters before reporting to the commodore.

Commodore Ross agreed to allow the colonels to deal with the desertion from post their own way after both convinced him it would be a suitable punishment. He dismissed them, seeing how tired they were and knowing that Silver needed to conserve her strength until able to feed.

Terrilli walked with Silver headed back to her quarters, somber. She glanced at him. "You know I'm not inviting you in."

"I know. Look, can I buy you a drink? I need to talk to you."

After a moment, she nodded. "The Tunn."

He stayed quiet all the way and ordered the drinks after motioning Silver to sit down. Setting her cold beer down before her, Terrilli sat down on her right, cradling his own beer in his hands. "Look, I know the last two weeks have been rough and the last two days especially. I know you keep waiting for me to start crowding you and demanding... it from you. I won't demand, Lysa, but I..."

Terrilli took a big drink from his beer, putting it down to stare over at the dart board where two Navy men dueled it out. "Lysa, I'm tired of living a half life. Of having my abilities cut in half. You're the only one I've ever been in contact with out here. I've been home twice since I enlisted. I'm not asking for the full exchange. Just it between you and me. You can have McQueen there if you want so I don't get out of hand. Though I promise I won't." He turned his eyes back to her. "I would like to stop living crippled, Lysa. Please."

Sitting back in her chair, sipping her beer, Silver studied Terrilli. She knew what he wanted. Blood. An exchange of blood between the two of them, not even sex. Just the blood. He was that desperate. The life he had been leading out here in space had taken its toll on him. To know that if he had been seeing a vampire on a regular basis, he might have been just that fraction of a second faster, stronger, or more stealthy and lives lost might have been saved. Briefly, she thought about having the commodore transfer him back to Earth for several months, but then she would have to take over the 138th and that was not what she wanted. Terrilli was the only one who could command the 138th for more than a week or so. He had to stay, but he was at the end of his rope. Even without the visions plaguing his dreams, he needed to live as a Remal again, even in such a minor way or he would die. With his death, the 138th would be destroyed, not by the military, but by their own differences that he combined into a working whole.

"Let me talk to Ty."

"Of course." Terrilli drank the rest of his beer down and said, "I better go check on Monty and turn in."

She watched him leave with troubled eyes.

McQueen was released that night, restricted to light duty for forty-eight hours. He wrote his report in the quiet of his quarters, submitted the official version in Wang's empty office, and then took a copy to Ross. Silver was already there and handed him a soda water with grapefruit juice. Taking it with a grimace, he said,

"I'd rather have a scotch."

"Yes, but I want you, not the scotch."

"One."

She nodded. "After that."

As Ross tossed the quickly read report onto his desk, he reached over and took his guitar, Rosalyn, from her stand. After strumming a few cords, he said, "Ty, I've already told her and Terrilli that this discipline matter can be handled among you." He started playing.

Nodding, McQueen said, "I'm not thrilled by the idea, Glen. There's so many factors to it. If their radio hadn't been rendered inoperable, they could have warned us. As it was, we nearly lost both West and Russell."

"And what you are so nicely skirting around is the fact that Jade panicked." Silver shook her head. "It was supposed to be an easy mission to help break her in."

"Why did she panic? Have you talked to her?"

"Yes. All she can say is that she sensed something dangerous and fled. I think she might have sensed the Chig officer, but because she's never experienced field conditions she had no way to interpret what she sensed. She won't let it happen again. She'll let us know instead."

Handing Silver the empty glass with a pointed look, McQueen said, "I was not happy about her spooking. That contributed to the mess. If Monty hadn't had to run after her, perhaps the group might not have been attacked. On the other hand, the Chigs might have waited until we were engaged with the other force and hit us from behind. Too many factors involved to say what would have happened. And we can't read the Chigs' minds." He took the scotch from Silver. "I would declare this a fiasco."

"Well, the Chigs are down an officer, Ty." Ross smiled. "That's a plus in my book. And you killed nearly a hundred Chigs. That's worth something."

Sipping his scotch, McQueen nodded. "Yes. There is that." After a moment, in an effort to be fair, he added, "And Jade pulled herself together, doing her job. As furious as I was with her to start, I'll give her another chance in the field."

Silver smiled and shrugged. "She did a good job on West and Russell."

"Yes, and without her skill, they would have died." McQueen finished his scotch. "Damned, but I'm tired."

"Go to bed, Ty." Ross grinned at him and Silver. "Take that woman of yours and go to bed."

"I think I've just been insulted." Silver tossed her head back with a grin. "Let's just see about that." She advanced on Ross and started tickling him. As he began laughing, she said, "The proper way to say it would be 'take _your_ woman and go to bed.' I am not a 'that woman' or a bat woman."

She shrieked with laughter as McQueen started tickling her from behind. "Ok, _my_ woman. Let's go."

Giving Ross a kiss on the cheek, Silver chuckled. "Night, Glen."

"Night, Glen," grinned McQueen, his arm around his wife's waist, ostensibly to keep her from tickling Ross again.

"Night, you two. Go on. Get out of here." Chuckling and shaking his head at the antics of Silver, Ross marveled anew at the way his old friend seemed to have relaxed. Never before had he seen McQueen tickle anyone, including Amy. That turned his thoughts to home and his own family.

Rosalyn sang a deep blues piece under his fingers.

"I'm not ready for our bed yet," McQueen said as they walked to the stairs. "Let's go up to the observatory."

"No locking the door this time." Tucking her hand into his, Silver chuckled softly.

"Too bad."

Up in the empty observatory, he strode up to the glass and stared out. "Sometimes, I just have to look at them. The stars. Reminds me that we're such small parts of the universe."

"But we can influence things in the universe around us." She put her arm around his waist, resting her head on his shoulder. "During our ten thousand year flight to Earth, over a hundred worlds have been smashed, their indigenous population beaten into the ground if not completely destroyed. In some cases, the entire planet had been literally torn apart, destabilizing the entire system. The repercussions from that are still vibrating throughout the galaxy."

"What's the longest your people have ever stayed in one place?"

"Before we reached Earth, three hundred years. We've been here over a thousand years. It's become home to us. Hell, we've only had the ability to get out of the system for a decade." Silver sighed. "We've bound ourselves to humanity. I don't think we'll ever leave it behind."

"What? What does that mean? Leave it behind?" He looked at her, frowning.

"Now that the stars are open to us again, we could, if we wanted, leave the Earth. It would be the safest thing to do. The Lyumo would have no reason to attack the Earth if we were gone. But it's become our second Home. Some of us have the wanderlust, but the majority of my people are happy living their lives, working to help humanity grow up enough to get pass the self-destructive phase. We don't want to run again. I think as a whole, my people have decided that we've stopped running. We'll stand and fight."

"With those of us who understand." He hugged her tight. "I'd be there, right by your side, no matter what you wanted, to stay on Earth or explore the galaxy."

She smiled, cupping his cheek. "The Earth is my home, but I wouldn't mind doing some exploration, if we get some of the engineering problems licked. First, there's a war to win. And to win, we better get some rest."

"Then let's go." He started to tug her away from the window, but she resisted. "What is it?"

"As much as I would love to get you in a really good receptive mood for this, Ty, I would rather not ruin such a time. So, instead I'm going to tell you and let you decide. I'm going to leave it up to you whether it gets done or not." She kept her arm around his waist, holding him close, staring at his reflection.

His eyes narrowed slightly and he took a sharp breath. "What?"

"Terrilli... Anton asked me tonight." She watched his mouth tighten. "Asked me if I would be willing to give him Blood." His nostrils flared. "No sex, just an exchange of Blood." Jaw muscles worked. "I told him I would ask you. After all, I promised no one you didn't approve."

"I don't want him getting his hands on you, Lysa." He was surprised at how even his voice sounded.

She turned him to face her. "He wouldn't be, Ty, that's the point. I would drink from him and he would drink from me. No sex, nothing except the drinking. I'll admit it isn't as satisfying to either, but I'm not looking to make him a lover. I have you for deep, satisfying lovemaking and the trio for, well, a romp, I guess you could call it. Later, Coop, once he's sure and no longer afraid to break into our getting used to one another time. Perhaps even Nathan in time. I suspect Paul will join at some point after he's made a solid relationship with Vanessa. Even with all of you, that's only half of what I need to stay at top condition, but I don't care. What I have is enough for me."

When he shook his head, she said, "I'm looking for serious relationships complete with serious commitments, not flings. That's why I married you, Tyrus Cassius McQueen and took your name, ring, and past, as bitter as it is. I'm here for the long haul, Ty, no matter who comes and goes. Anton, on the other hand, is looking for a vampire. Any vampire." She looked thoughtful. "He's desperate for a vampire, like you were for green meanies after your divorce. In fact his entire situation is a lot like addiction."

His face turned to stone and she gestured to the chairs. "Sit down a moment, please, Ty. I'll see if I can explain it so you can understand." She sat down and waited.

When he realized she didn't intend to continue speaking as long as he stood up, McQueen sat down beside her, his body rigid.

"Ty, what do you remember about the Remal?"

"They're your family, friends, lovers. They gain benefits from the Blood they drink from a vampire."

"All right. Now, Anton is a Remal. He's a Remal who had vampires available every day or whenever he needed one in order to remain faster, stronger, healthier, all of the benefits that the Blood gave him. Then he joined the Corps. He made it through Boot, though by the middle of it, he was no longer receiving any Blood benefit. It had long since worn off. Otherwise, he could have taken care of Fulton easily during that unpleasantness." She rested her hand on his arm lightly. "He was transferred out here, where the majority of vampires are in the Black Forces. Tell me, Ty, how often do the Black Forces actually mingle with the rest of the military?"

"Not very. Griffon was the first I'd ever seen."

"In nearly fifteen years. Until I was transferred to his ship, Anton had not seen a single vampire since he had joined the Corps, except for two short shore leaves. I understand how desperate he was at the time, but I couldn't give him what he wanted. A full time vampire-remal relationship. Being Black Forces, I had to leave on missions all the time. I was not able to be the vampire he wanted or needed. That's why I transferred to the Ticondaroga with the squad. So for the twelve years he's been in the Corps, excepting a six month period when I gave him what he needed in small doses, he's been forced to go without. That was four years ago, Ty. He's long past withdrawal. He's reached the point where he's looking at his performance and holding it up against what he could be doing if he were Blooded. What if I could have been that fraction of a second faster? If I had just been stronger, like I could be... Do you see what I'm saying, Ty? He's in bad shape. He needs the Blood to pull himself back from the brink. Or we're going to lose him completely."

McQueen continued to sit stiffly, staring out the window at the cold, remote stars. His thoughts darted back to the time he had become hooked on green meanies. Being able to drown his sorrows in work twenty-four hours, to feel the euphoria while flying, under the false impression that his reflexes were faster, making him an even better pilot. Desperately wanting the good feelings back when it faded, knowing that he was no longer as good a pilot without the drug. The craving that had driven him to lie and steal, to hurt his only friend in the world, just so he could get the damn drug. The agony of rehabilitation from the drug, clinging to the only sane voice in the world that kept telling him he was cared for. Waking from the delirium to see the bruises on Glen's face from his wild flailings and the understanding and depth of caring in the brown eyes as Glen refused to stop giving him that caring. For Anton Terrilli, it was even worse. His body was engineered to function on the Blood and he was cut off from it. He had passed the point of lying and trying to force her to give him the Blood. If he didn't get it, he would become lost in a haze of self-doubt as destructive as any drug.

Taking a deep breath, McQueen said softly, "All right. Blood, no sex. I want to watch."

"Have I told you lately that you're one in a billion, Ty?" Smiling, she kissed him, her hand cupping his cheek. "Let's go to bed and I'll show you just how special you are."

"I'm not happy about this, Lysa."

"I know. Neither am I, but it's that or watch him self-destruct."

"I can't let him do that either."

She rose and gently tugged him onto his feet. "Come on."

In their quarters, she made slow love to him, taking the risk that they would be interrupted. She wanted to show her husband how much she loved him for being man enough to let Terrilli have what he needed. She didn't drink from him until the second climax and she encouraged him to sleep afterward, using words and hands to calm and sooth him into slumber.

Watching him sleep, she smiled, content. Drinking from him had been a way to give him pleasure. Her hand on his chest, feeling him breathe, she snuggled into his side and closed her eyes.

Waking, McQueen glanced reflexively at the clock. 0525. Five minutes before the alarm when off. He ran his hand through Silver's almost black hair, inhaling the strawberry scent of her shampoo. She stirred and he smiled. "Hi, sleepy-head."

"Hm, three mikes to go. Shall I grab them in sleep?" She ran her hand down his chest to his groin and grinned at the evidence that he hadn't been awake long.

"Oh, no, I think you have a much better idea in mind."

At 0633, they strode into the Officers' Mess, ready to eat. Once at their table, McQueen asked, "How long do you think the squad is going to be down?"

"Vansen'll be out the longest. Even with bone filler, she still needs two to three weeks before she can use the arm even in a transport, let alone a Hammerhead. A month and a half before she goes groundside. The others... West, Finch, and Russell, five to six days before they're released from Sickbay and allowed extreme light duty. Four to five days of PT, then perhaps light duty and flying. Another week before strong enough to handle ground missions. St. John will be flying within a week. And you, my love, aren't flying anywhere for the next week nor are you going groundside. Doctor's orders."

McQueen sighed. "That leaves you, Hawkes and 'Phousse."

"Figured that one out." She grinned at him. "If we're needed we'll fly, but I think the squad is grounded for at least a week until you and St. John are able to fly."

"Damn, I don't like it." He stabbed his eggs.

"Fortunes of war, Ty. Now stop killing your breakfast. It's already dead. Or should be." She chuckled.

"What?"

"Oh, I had this image of the scrambled eggs rising up en masse, english muffins for eyes, waving the kitchen utensils, spraying ham everywhere as it moaned, 'Time to eat you' as it chased the cooks out of the kitchen."

He smiled, then saw Terrilli enter the mess. His smile faded.

"I hate seeing you do that. It always bodes ill." She glanced over her shoulder. "But I know why." Reaching over to squeeze his hand, she said, "We don't have to tell him right now. It can wait."

"No, the longer I put it off, the more unhappy I'll be. The sooner I get it over with, the sooner I can work on a better mood."

"Do you want me to tell him?" She seriously doubted it. His territory was being invaded; he would have to make sure the invader understood the boundaries.

"I'll tell him." He started to rise.

Holding onto his hand, Silver said, "After breakfast."

McQueen hesitated for a moment and then nodded, realizing that he would feel better about the talk with a full stomach. Finishing his meal, having tasted none of it, he glanced at Terrilli and saw how listlessly the other man ate. No one stopped to chat with him, no one offered him a smile, making McQueen realize that Terrilli was under a double strain, attempting to prove himself and his squad to the other officers while craving what Silver had to offer him. He hadn't been treating Terrilli any better than the others for the last two weeks.

Getting to his feet, McQueen grabbed his plate and mug, walking over to the disposal area. Leaving the plate there, he deliberately strode over to the coffee urns and got a refill. He then walked straight over to Terrilli. "May I sit down?"

"Sure." Terrilli grimaced. "I'd say from the look on your face that she already asked you. As unhappy about it as you are, so am I. I don't like begging, McQueen, but that's what I'm reduced to." He held his hand out beside his plate, watching faint tremors running through his hand and arm. "Look at me. I have the shakes. It takes four cups of coffee to rid myself of them and then I'm so damned wired from the caffeine..." Terrilli sighed. "I'm not asking for the full exchange. Just it. I need to feel whole again, even for the short time I'm here."

"Terrilli, you can have it and nothing else. Anything more than it is totally up to her. I won't veto it, but it is her decision, not yours. I even catch a hint of you suggesting otherwise and you'll be wishing you were jumping out an airlock without a suit. You be in her office at 1000. We'll be there." McQueen's hands gripped the mug hard, leaving his knuckles white.

"It and nothing else, that's all I want, McQueen, I swear."

McQueen almost missed the barely breathed words. "And peace." He felt alarms going off in his head and quieted them. Such defeatism needed to be dealt with carefully. "Also, since the 5-8 would normally be out of commission for a week, how about you and the healthy members of your squad fill in?" He forced himself to relax his hands.

"You sure?"

"Yes."

"We'll do it."

"Also, tonight, join Lysa and me for dinner, 1830. Bring Monty if he's been released." He saw the relief in Terrilli's eyes.

"Thank you. I would be honored."

Walking back to Silver, McQueen couldn't miss the approving smile she gave him.

She took his hand as he sat down beside her. "You made him relax somewhat so you must have said something right."

"Like I wouldn't?" He tried to sound light and knew he failed.

She squeezed his hand. "I know it was hard to do, Ty."

He nodded and sipped his coffee. "I told him 1000 in your office." After drinking some more coffee, he added, "I also invited him to join us for dinner. No one's been trying to make him feel welcome."

"You never would have worried about that before, Ty." Smiling, she caressed his palm. "All right. Dinner it is. Now, we have some reports to write."

McQueen jerked his head up as he heard the knock on Silver's office door. His eyes widened in surprise as he heard a voice he hadn't expected.

"Like hell you're leaving me out here for this meeting. If it's what I think it is, then you're going to have to shoot me to keep me out." Monty's voice was low, but fierce. "Now, are we going to stand out here and let the entire ship know about it or are we going inside?"

"Come in," called Silver, shaking her head. "Never should have expected to put something over on Monty."

After a few seconds, the door opened and Terrilli, followed by Monty, entered. Monty shut the door, turning around, leaning against the door, and folding his arms over his chest.

"So, Monty, how long have you guessed?" Silver sat back in her chair. "Sit down, Anton."

"Guessed, four years. Known, since yesterday. I saw you giving West some of your blood and I saw how he reacted." Monty shook his head. "I've been his babysitter for a very long time. When you were around before, I saw him getting stronger, faster, healing faster. I watched him lose it gradually after you left. It wasn't drugs. He wouldn't tell me what it was, just that he couldn't have it anymore. Yet he craved it like a drug. The craving wasn't as strong after a while and he seemed to be coping with its loss. Then he found out we were coming here and it started up again. I've cared for that boy for over ten years. I want to see him healthy again."

Silver rose, stepping around her desk to the front. "I can't guarantee total health, not immediately, Monty. But he will be started on the road to recovery. Now, Monty, I need you to give me any weapons you have."

Monty stiffened.

"Do it, Monty. It's for your own protection." Terrilli sat, gaze fixed on his clenched fists. "You don't want to piss her off while we're exchanging blood."

Slowly Monty drew his k-bar from its sheath and handed it over to Silver who set it on the desk.

"Ty, turn your chair so you're facing Anton. Monty, kneel before him." When Monty hesitated, Silver said, "Monty, all Ty's going to do is hold you, to keep you from interfering. Guessing, thinking you know what to expect, that is not the same as seeing it for real."

Monty glanced at McQueen who nodded once.

"Monty," snapped Terrilli, his head lifted. "Do it or get out."

As if spurred by Terrilli's words, Monty moved swiftly, kneeling before McQueen.

"Ty, hold his wrists. Keep him still." Silver felt grateful in a way for Monty's presence. It gave her husband something else to focus on. As McQueen obeyed, crossing Monty's wrists around to the opposite sides of his body, she stood before Terrilli.

Looking up at her, Terrilli spoke in a language that sounded harsh to McQueen's ears. The r's rolled heavily as if a cat were to speak. Silver answered with what he assumed was a question and Terrilli nodded, saying several syllables. McQueen met Silver's eyes as she looked at him.

"Ty, this once, I'm going to drink him down fairly far before I let him drink. It's going to be a lot like on the transport with you. Don't worry."

McQueen nodded once. He watched as Terrilli bent his head back, baring his throat, hands on the chair arms. Silver tilted his head to the right and Terrilli closed his eyes as she put her mouth over his throat. A needy moan escaped Terrilli as she sank her fangs into his flesh and his hands clenched spasmodically. The life seemed to drain from Terrilli as she drank and drank, longer than McQueen had ever seen her do to anyone else besides himself. He could remember what it had felt like when after a three month mission she had nearly killed him, drinking from him. Feeling his life's blood and life-force drain out of his body had been a terrifying experience, yet he had refused to back out.

Pale and shaking, Terrilli could barely sit up when Silver left his throat. She stood over him, head tilted back, life and energy sparking off her.

"Let me go. He's going to die!" Monty struggled to free himself.

"No, he won't. Calm down. Watch." McQueen forced Monty to stay kneeling on the floor.

Silver looked at Monty and McQueen could see the power in her gaze, the power of a vampire with lots of extra life-force. "It's all right, Monty. I have to recharge at least half of his blood before I give it back to him. Just a few more heartbeats and I can start giving it back to him."

She brought her wrist up to her mouth and cut it open with a tooth. Terrilli latched onto it as she held it before his mouth. Color and life returned to his features as he drank and drank. When she finally pulled her wrist away, he sighed, letting his head fall back with a smile. Silver leaned against the desk.

"Oh, that feels so damn good." Terrilli straightened. "Monty, I'm ok. Really."

Silver nodded to McQueen who released Monty. "He wanted it this way. As much as I could take and give back without killing him. Frankly, it was probably the best way to do it, given the circumstances."

Rubbing his wrists, Monty slowly stood up. "That's all there is to it?"

"Yes. I drink his blood, recharge it and give it back to him." Silver shrugged. "A lot of fuss over it in the legends."

"Will he..."

"Anton, I think you need to educate Monty here about us." Silver ran her fingers lightly over Terrilli's forehead. "That should hold you for at least two days," she grinned.

"Yes." Terrilli stood up, nearly springing out of the chair. "Come on, Monty, let's get some coffee and I'll explain things to you."

As the door shut behind them, Silver turned to McQueen and leaned over to whisper, "Are you all right?"

"Yes. It wasn't as hard as I thought it would be."

"Good. Now that it's over, let's get our work done."

"Sounds good to me."


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter Six - 2 Souls Bound Page 20

Disclaimer: The names of all 'Space: Above and Beyond' characters contained herein are the property of Glen Morgan and James Wong, Hard Eight Productions and the Fox Broadcasting Network. These names have been used without their permission. All else is my own creation.

Rating: NC17 Language, violence and graphic sex.

Spoilers: None

Warning: Sex, Language.

Author: Vasalysa, with many undying thanks to Geek.

E-Mail: 

2 Souls Bound

Chapter Six

Two weeks later, the 5-8 climbed into their cockpits for a twelve hour patrol. In the 58th's briefing room, McQueen glanced to his right at Vansen who stood looking through the glass, lightly rubbed her left forearm. Guiltily, he had insisted that Silver fly this time since Vansen had mentioned to him that Silver was close to losing her flight status from the lack of flying time outside simulators. Looking back over the time since their return after their marriage, he realized she hadn't flown except the day after Terrilli and his squad had arrived. He had voluntarily given up his flight time, but Vansen was still at least two weeks from being allowed to fly.

Briefly, McQueen wondered if West was really ready to jump back into the fray. The doctors and the psychs all said West was ready, but he had his doubts. He had talked to West about the AIs while he had recovered afterward, but then to be right back in Sickbay two weeks later with a gaping hole in his thigh had made West quieter than normal. McQueen could only hope that West wasn't hiding it inside. Maybe if he could get West to talk to Wang.

Every crew member hurriedly vacated the docking room as the alarms sounded warning of vacuum exposure. As the cockpits started descending, he asked, "Are you going to spend some time with Wang?"

"Yes. He's challenged me to some light foos ball." She smiled wanly.

McQueen turned away from the glass as the last cockpit had just disappeared from sight. The sound of the alarms changed, becoming more strident, spinning him back around.

"What?" Vansen sounded puzzled..

Frowning, McQueen studied the room. None of the cockpit doors had slid shut, leaving the room exposed to vacuum, so no one could enter the room. He opened the bond to Silver and felt frustration on her end. Spinning on his heel, he strode over to the wall intercom. "Bridge, McQueen. Have any of the 5-8 reached their ships?"

"Lt. Crowe, sir. Board shows red. They are not in the Hammerheads, sir."

"Thank you."

"Sir?" Vansen's eyes widened as she realized that the cockpits were trapped somewhere on the tracks between the docking bay and the Hammerheads. "We have to get to them."

"The entire system is exposed to vacuum. We'll have to go in through an auxiliary airlock down below. But I don't know where to access the tracks. We have to find the maintenance crews for that."

He headed out the door, hoping that Silver would be able to keep Hawkes calm until someone could reach him before the cockpits' limited air supply ran out. Heading for the next deck down, Vansen on his heels, McQueen knew that they were running against the clock; the cockpits only carried fifteen minutes of air. The rest was in the body of the Hammerhead.

They found the maintenance crews already suiting up. The crew chief, Johnson, tossed a suit at McQueen and started to hand one to Vansen.

"No." McQueen shook his head. "Captain, your arm isn't strong enough."

Vansen frowned but nodded and stepped back.

He saw her watching stoically from the airlock door as he and the crew cycled through into the vacuum.

Johnson activated his radio. "All right, we split up. Charlie, you take Joe and try to close the landing bay doors on the left. Parker and Stan, you take the doors on the right. The rest of you, pick a track and crawl up it to the 'pit. Reassure the pilot. Determine what the problem is. Just make damned sure you're not in front of the 'pit when it releases. It'll shear your fingers, arms, legs right off or crush you in between it and the Hammerhead. Since we're aborting this sequence, attach the bottle of oxygen to the 'pit, just make sure it is securely fastened to the top of the 'pit." The door on the far side opened. "Well, what are you waiting for? A graven invitation." As the men and women shuffled off, Johnson turned to McQueen. "We are going to check out the nearest track. Hawkes should be on that one. If you would bring the bottle, I'll lead the way."

With a nod, McQueen hefted the heavy cylinder.

They climbed up onto Hawkes' Hammerhead and Johnson led the way up into the dark tunnel that the cockpits traveled through to get to the ships. Small lights lit the way every twenty feet, but McQueen found himself wishing for a flashlight. His back hurt already from having to bend at the waist in the five foot tall tunnel.

Johnson fumbled at his belt and activated his belt light, aiming it up the tunnel. "I keep forgetting how dark these tunnels are. Keep to the sides, Colonel."

Not eager to encounter the cockpit on its way down, McQueen obeyed, aware that a single cut in the suit could mean his death. These suits were lighter than EVA suits, intended only to deal with vacuum within the ship. Part of making the suits lighter entailed removing the self-sealing layers between the inside and outside layers.

"Almost there, Colonel. Good thing. He's the most likely to panic and run out of air the fastest." The light caught the metal of the cockpit, thirty feet further up the access shaft.

McQueen felt a chill as he thought about being shut in the cockpit, in the dark, unable to get out because of the vacuum and running out of air. Hawkes already had trouble dealing with dark, narrow places. This was not going to help.

Reaching the cockpit, Johnson reached back for the oxygen bottle. "Let him see you. Try to get him to calm down. There's no telling how long it's going to take to free him and he needs to conserve air."

McQueen stepped up beside the cockpit and saw Hawkes beating frantically against the glass, eyes wide with fear, panting heavily, struggling to breathe. As Johnson maneuvered around to the back of the cockpit, McQueen thumped the glass hard in front of Hawkes and drew the younger Invitro's attention.

Slumping back into his seat, Hawkes kept his eyes fastened on McQueen.

"Hawkes, can you hear me?" As Hawkes continued sitting in his seat, shaking, McQueen growled in his throat. Switching his radio frequency, he said, "Bridge."

"Bridge here. Lt. Crowe."

"McQueen. Can you patch me through to Hawkes' cockpit?"

"Yes, sir."

"Thank you ." He waited a few seconds before saying, "Hawkes, you need to calm down."

"What's happened, sir?"

"We don't know yet. I need you to calm down. Breathe slowly. Relax. We'll have you out of there as soon as we can." As Johnson fastened the oxygen bottle to the cockpit, McQueen said, "Relax. You're not running out of air, Coop. Johnson there is attaching a bottle of oxygen. There's nothing you can do right now except relax. We'll get you out of here."

"Yes, sir."

Johnson nodded to McQueen. "I've started the oxygen. He has enough for five hours, if he stays calm."

"Hawkes, you have enough air for five hours, if you don't panic on me. Understand?" He crouched beside the cockpit.

"Yes, sir." Hawkes wrapped his arms around his chest. "I'll try not to."

"That's all I can ask." McQueen jerked his head up to stare at Johnson who was swearing, hard. "What is it?"

"Whatever the problem is will have to wait, I'm afraid. All of the pilots will have to stay put. I've just been informed that the outer landing doors refuse to close, even on manual. Once we get those closed, we can get the pilots out, cut them out if necessary. Hell, I'll even cut through the sides of the access shafts if necessary. But we can't do anything without getting those doors shut." Johnson moved over beside McQueen. "I'm sorry, but until we can get an atmosphere in to the landing bays, other than making sure they have oxygen, there's nothing we can do for them." He turned so his back was to Hawkes. "Do you want to stay here?"

"I'll stay with him."

"If it looks like it's going to take more than five hours, someone will come to replace the oxygen bottle, both for him and for you." Johnson patted him awkwardly on the arm and handed him the flashlight. "I can more or less slide on out of here. The battery should be good for eight hours. I'll send another one with the oxygen if needed."

McQueen watched Johnson leave with misgivings. He was going to be stuck in this dark, cold shaft for an unknown amount of time. What the hell was he going to do for that time? Shining the light around, he found a flat surface almost like a step beside the cockpit. For a moment, he thought about looking around underneath the cockpit, but a quick look with the light showed that there was only an inch of space beneath the cockpit. He was not going to be fixing anything and could possibly get himself seriously hurt. Settling down against the wall, McQueen said, "Ok, Hawkes, I'm going to tell you a story. It starts like this, In a hole in the ground, there lived a hobbit."

Eight hours later, McQueen described the journey home of the hobbit, Bilbo, after his marvelous adventures in a hoarse whisper. The many sidetracks to explain things to Hawkes had lengthened the telling, but McQueen didn't mind. Hawkes had remained calm and collected, even when their oxygen had been replenished by one of Johnson's crew.

Lights appeared down the shaft and he felt the vibration of many feet on the deck beneath him. With difficulty, McQueen levered himself onto his feet, bending over the cockpit to keep from banging his head. His light revealed a tired and worn Johnson, still in a vacuum suit followed by half a dozen others.

"Ok, Colonel, Lieutenant. The last door should be shut in about ten mikes. Then once atmosphere has been achieved, we're going to pry open the canopy. We have a pressure suit and an air canister for you, Lieutenant. As soon as we pop the canopy, you'll be given the air. Strap it on and keep it on until we get you to the airlock. Get into the pressure suit once you're out of the cockpit."

Thirty minutes later, both McQueen and Hawkes were eagerly drinking water and wolfing down stale doughnuts in the briefing room. Vansen and Wang stood watching them, pale and drawn. One by one, the rest of the squadron arrived, freed from their cockpits, heading straight for the water and doughnuts. Ross entered, followed by two men carrying an urn of coffee.

The commodore wisely stayed away from the urn as the 5-8 descended on it. He waited to the side, his eyes on McQueen and Silver, not missing the exhaustion in their bodies. When McQueen dropped into a chair with none of his usual grace, Ross winced, having seen the stiffness in his friend's movements. Eight hours in the cold and dark had taken their toll. Even as Silver sank down beside McQueen, Ross stepped up and rested his hand on his friend's shoulder.

"Ty, you never told me you were a story teller."

"What?" rasped McQueen, giving him a startled look.

Ross raised an eyebrow. "You didn't know? Lt. Crowe broadcast on the bridge as well as to the other members of the 5-8."

McQueen groaned, wincing as his throat reminded him of all the talking he had done.

Patting him on the back, Silver said, "You did a good job, too. Everyone relaxed and listened. You kept them too busy listening to worry about themselves."

"I'll never live this down," moaned McQueen, shaking his head and staring at the deck. He rubbed his throat.

"Well, I gave Crowe permission. When he heard you start telling Hawkes the story, he asked me if he could pipe it onto the bridge. I said yes, mostly out of curiosity as to what was going on. Crowe called the library and reserved one of the copies of the book, by the way. I suspect there is going to be some fighting over who gets to read the story and I think there will be some interesting quiet times in the barracks while someone reads aloud to the others." Ross shook head slightly. "Overall, Ty, it's a good thing. Yes, there will be some who will denigrate it, but others will see it for what it was. An attempt to keep people calm during a trying time."

Johnson entered, his helmet under his arm. He snagged a coffee mug and drank down an entire mug of coffee in several gulps before refilling it and walking over to where the three officers were. "Commodore, colonels, I have some bad news."

"Yes?" Ross crossed his arms.

"I'm going to have to declare all of the docking bays and landing bays inoperable. All except Twelve. The only one that survived the beating the 'Toga took. When we rebuilt her, something was done wrong. What, I haven't the vaguest idea. We used the original blueprints and they appeared to have been working, but now everything is out of kilter. We're going to have to put into a shipyard. The 'Toga can't defend herself. We can only put a single squadron at a time into space or let them land that way."

"Shit." Ross closed his eyes briefly. "All right, I'll inform General MacIntyre and Admiral Hamlin and see where they send us for repairs." He looked at the 5-8, who despite having spent eight hours doing nothing but sit, looked wiped. "Go get some sleep, people. That means you too, Ty, Lysa. You're off duty for twelve hours. Even if we get in a battle, there's nothing you'll be able to do. I won't sacrifice fighters by getting them out there piecemeal unless I absolutely have to. Since I'll be relying on missiles and laser batteries, you might as well sit it out."

Rising, Silver extended a hand to McQueen. "Come on, he's right. We all need some sleep."

"I'm hungry," complained Hawkes and everyone chuckled tiredly. "What?"

"Go feed that hollow leg of yours, Hawkes," Silver said, smiling. "Then go to bed."

Hawkes nodded and strode out the door, his mission firmly set in his mind. The others trickled out, until only Ross, Vansen, Wang, McQueen and Silver remained. Standing, McQueen gave the two squad members an inquiring look, not wanting to strain his throat further.

"Sir, even if anyone says something bad about your storytelling, it was a good thing." Vansen rubbed her arm absently, her eyes on him. "We listened too and that's how we got through this without going mad from worry."

Wang gave a slight grin. "Listening to you was a lot better than hearing nothing and wondering what was going on. It kept our minds occupied and focused on you rather than worry. Plus it gave me something to listen to as I did my exercises." His grin touched his eyes briefly before he said, "Now I better go finish up the last of the paperwork I needed to do today."

"Don't overwork. You need the rest as well."

"I won't, Colonel." Wang nodded to Silver. "An hour should do it."

"Go on, then." Silver waited until they were gone to say to Ross, "Remind Mac that we still need that visit from the Black Forces and wherever we are sent would be a good time to have that visit."

Ross nodded. "Now, get out of here yourselves." He watched as his two favorite colonels walked out of the room, hand in hand. He couldn't help grinning and shaking his head slightly at the changes wrought in his long time friend by the female vampire he now counted as a friend.

As they approached their shared quarters, McQueen groaned.

"What?" asked Silver, running her hand down his arm.

"I'm hungry," he whispered.

"Then we better feed you." She laughed softly.

"Colonel," came Russell's voice. "Brought you something to eat."

"Now how's that for service?" Chuckling, Silver turned to Russell. "Thanks, Russ." She took the tray. "Go on, go relax." As Russell trotted off, she looked at McQueen. "Well, are we eating out here?"

Shaking his head, McQueen unlocked the door and held it open for her.

After removing his boots, McQueen inhaled his food and drank the ice cold bottled water, enjoying the way it soothed his sore throat. Setting the empty bottle down, he said, whispering, "My rep is ruined."

Pushing him backward on the bed, Silver laughed. "What, over a story? If your rep can't stand up to that, it wasn't worth much in the first place. Especially that story. It's been a classic for a hundred years." She slipped out of her flight suit and started unzipping his flight suit. "Now if the story had been, say, Once upon a time, there was this grouchy, grumpy bear."

The flight suit was pulled down his arms and he obligingly removed them from the sleeves. "Oh, and do I know this bear?"

"Ssh. It's my story." She kissed him, sliding his turtleneck up his chest. Working it up over his head, she continued. "This grouchy, grumpy bear went for a walk in the woods one day, grumbling over every little thing that displeased him, of which nearly everything did." His chest bared, she licked his throat and jaw. "He came to a pool and sat down to take a drink. Looking into the pool, he saw a naked young woman standing beside him. 'Go away,' growled the bear. 'I don't like company.' She smiled and said, 'Not even company that does this?'" She reached down under his flight suit and cupped him, kneading gently. McQueen moaned softly. "The bear shook his head. 'Not even company that does that.' The woman laughed. 'What about this then?'" Her hand slid inside his shorts, stroking him. As he thrust up into her hand, she said, "The bear said, 'Not even company who does that.' So she reached up and removed his skin, saying, 'You have way too much on, bear.'" Silver pushed his flight suit and shorts down his thighs, leaving his hardening cock revealed. "The bear growled, 'I do not want company.' The woman said, kneeling, 'Perhaps this will change your mind.'"

McQueen groaned as her mouth engulfed him while her hand kneaded once more. "Stupid bear," he gasped, fingers in the bed covers.

"The bear groaned and shook his head. 'I do... not want... company.' After a lick, the woman said, 'There is always this.'" Silver sucked on the head of his cock diverting his attention, shoving his flight suit and shorts further down his legs while getting out the lubricant. A single finger well lubed, she slowly eased it into him, opening the bond with him, letting him feel her enjoyment and monitoring that she wasn't causing him discomfort or displeasure.

He parted his thighs, giving her better access and moaned as she slowly stroked in and out, not touching the sensitive spot he wanted stroked. "So what did the bear have to say to that?" he whispered, head thrown back.

"The bear shook and trembled, but said, "I... do... not... want... company.' So the woman did this." Silver stroked his prostrate several times, grinning as he bucked under her. She continued stroking as she said, "The bear fell onto his back, moaned and bucking. After several strokes, she said, 'What about now?' The bear moaned and said, 'I do not want company... but I will accept a wife.' The woman laughed. 'Well, we know how I please you, but not how you please me. Perhaps I do not want a grouchy, grumpy bear for a husband.'"

McQueen grabbed her and pulled her to him, even though it dislodged her divinely inspired finger. After kissing her, he whispered, "The bear growled in mock anger and pulled her down beside him, saying that he would show her pleasure." He pulled her shorts down and slid several fingers into her center, feeling how wet and ready she was for him. "The bear took his claws and started doing this with them while he used his tongue like this." His tongue licked and sucked on her nipples, bringing them to hard points and his fingers thrust into her. "The woman laughed and said, 'You call this pleasuring.' The bear growled with real anger and did this." He removed his fingers and slammed into her in a single stroke. "They became lost in the rhythm quickly."

"You catch on quickly, love." Laughing, Silver brought his head down and kissed him.

McQueen kissed her back and let his body go, knowing he couldn't hurt her. When they climaxed together, he sank down beside her. After a moment, he whispered, hoarsely, his throat dry from his efforts, "So, the bear asks the woman, 'Well, will I do for a husband?' And she answers?"

Getting up and opening the small refrigerator she had insisted on being installed, Silver grabbed two bottles of water and tossed one to him. "Drink, love." She drank half of her water, watching him carefully. He drank slowly, almost wincing at the pain of swallowing at the start. By the end of the bottle, he wasn't wincing any more, though she knew his throat still hurt. "She answered, 'Well, bear, I do not like grumpy and grouchy, but I'll put up with it for this.'" Silver ran her fingers over his still hard cock. "And the bear replied?"

"The bear, not being so much a fool as might be thought, said, 'I do not like company, but I will put up with a wife for this.'" McQueen reached up and brought her down for a kiss. "They married and lived comfortably ever after. The end."

"That it is." Silver finished off her water and tossed both bottles into the trash. "Ok, love. I think it is time for some sleep."

"Sounds good to me." He tugged her down onto the bed and wrapped his arms around her, his chin on her shoulder. "Later, love," he whispered in her ear.

"Definitely later, love." She reached up to caress his jaw. "Sleep, Ty. No nightmares."

"Right," he managed dryly.

Feeling him tighten his hold on her, she sighed and closed her eyes.

As she relaxed and fell asleep, McQueen took several deep breaths, letting himself relax further and thought of the valley that Cassie had shown him deep in the redwood forest. The image of the huge tree covered valley five hundred feet below the level of the cliff he had been standing on brought a content smile to his face. On the far side of the valley, he pictured the waterfall cascading downward and, beyond the valley, the snow capped mountains that rose up into the sky as it defying the heavens to throw them down. All the product of the 2040 California earthquake felt from Guatemala to Washington State to Florida that leveled entire cities in southern California. Despite the misery the earthquake had caused, a lot of good and one fantastic valley had also been created. Los Angeles, San Diego and San Fransisco had to be completely rebuilt along new lines. They were the leading cities in the newest styles of architecture and living spaces. Putting the valley firming before his mind's eyes, McQueen let sleep take him away.

Hunger woke McQueen. His stomach growled and protested as if he hadn't eaten since before the disastrous patrol launch. A glance at the clock showed he'd slept roughly six hours and it was now 2300. With a sigh, he tried to leave the bed without waking his wife, but she grabbed his arm firmly and rolled over, kissing him soundly.

"Guess we better feed you, love," she grinned.

"Aren't you hungry?" He gave her a pointed look and she continued to grin.

"Oh, yes, but I'll wait. After all, I fed my hunger last night quite satisfactorily." Running her hands down his side, she licked his jaw. "Come on now, love. You need to feed." She lifted her throat above his mouth.

He could see her pulse pounding below her jaw and knew what her blood would taste like. He could almost taste the thick, wine like fluid that flowed under her skin, beckoning him closer. Starting to lift his mouth to her flesh, it hit him. He wasn't a vampire. What the hell was he doing? He shoved her off him, knocking her to the floor, and frantically scrambled off the bed. Holding his head in his hands, he tried to think. What was going on?

"Now, why did you do that?" There was a bite of anger in Silver's voice as she stood up.

"You're not her. This is a dream!" McQueen snarled. "You are not real. This is a dream!"

Silver shimmered and blurred. When it solidified, he saw the form Jalke had taken on the cliff overlooking the valley, a blonde woman dressed in white, her hair cut short and wavy. "Jalke? What is going on?" He could only hope that the female guardian spirit of the vampires would answer him without too much oracle-like double talk.

"There is a lesson in this dream, my son. Learn it. For all of the lives depending on you, you must learn this lesson." Jalke started to fade.

"What is the lesson?" he cried even as she vanished, taking all of the light with her.

With a start, McQueen jerked awake in his bed, chest heaving.

"Must have been an interesting dream, love." Silver sat beside him, concern evident in her eyes. "I tried to wake you, but you wouldn't come out of it. At least you weren't screaming there until the end."

"Who am I?" he asked. "No, what am I?" Was he out of the dream yet?

Cocking her head to the side, Silver said, "Definitely one of _those_ dreams. Ok, you are Tyrus Cassius McQueen, colonel in the Marines, CO of the 58th squadron, and my husband."

"But _what_ am I?" He grabbed her wrist, unaware of how hard he was squeezing.

Eyes narrowing, Silver said, "A human, though many others would only focus on your being an Invitro."

"Am I..." he hesitated to say it, not wanting to lead her.

"Are you what?" Exasperated, Silver wrenched her wrist free and rubbed it lightly. "Ty, talk to me. This dream obviously has upset you."

"Am I... a vampire?"

"What?"

Silver's look of surprise convinced him. "Good."

"Ok, start talking. I want to hear this."

While he told her the dream, McQueen glanced at the clock. 2310. A shiver coursed through him even as his stomach rumbled.

Silver rested her hand on his thigh. "Jalke obviously thought it was important enough to visit you in a dream. What do you think the lesson of the dream is?"

"I'm not sure." He frowned. After several second's thought, he ventured, "Maybe since I wasn't who I am, maybe it's that people are not always what they seem. Or appear."

"So we keep an eye on people. Don't take them at face value if we don't know them."

"What if it is someone we do know?"

Silver shook her head. "If we know them, we know them. Let's not get more paranoid than we have to. Ok?"

He smiled. "Ok."

"Now, you sound like you need something else to eat. Let's get dressed and go. I happen to have a bottle of scotch for the master sergeant of the mess." Silver grinned.

"He should like that."

By the time they had raided the Officers' Mess, McQueen felt better as he left the scotch in the cupboard that Ross had showed him. The urgency of the dream had faded somewhat and he didn't feel so panicked. His sandwich finished, he yawned and shook his head. "I'm still tired."

"It was a stressful day, even if we didn't actually do anything." Silver put the dishes in the sink, put the cover over the sink and linked her arm through his. "Back to our quarters."

Settling back on the bed, McQueen could only hope that no more dreams haunted him.

The alarm woke McQueen and he sighed, shutting it off. It still felt strange when he got more that three hours of real sleep, but it also felt good to feel how recharged his body felt. He couldn't help grinning when Silver slid her hand up his morning erection.

"I set the alarm a half hour early," she whispered.

"Good. I need you this morning."

At breakfast, McQueen ate, his thoughts back on the war and the Saratoga's predicament. He spotted Ross entering in and waved him over. Ross nodded and got into the chow line.

When Ross sat down several minutes later, he said, "Glen, I hope we're not sitting ducks."

Ross shook his head. "No. We're about three hours from the wormhole. We'll leave our destroyer escort on this side. Our destination is Oddessy Station."

McQueen frowned. "Where is that?"

"Dicte."

McQueen saw Silver wince. "When did they get a station and why are we going there?"

"The station was built two years ago, just prior to the 'peace talks' and we're going there because someone says we are. Who I don't know, but MacIntyre was adamant. If whoever it was decided that we're to stay there for repairs, I can rotate the crew on shore leave there. Only on Dicte, but from what I've read this morning, it's got everything most military folks are interested in. It's a military base with a surrounding town, of sorts." Ross shook his head. "There's some military spouses and families, but mostly it's what you'd expect of a town outside a military base."

"Any idea who routed us there?" asked Silver quietly.

"No. All I know is they better have a damned good reason for it." Ross stabbed his scrambled eggs. "We could have gone straight to Jupiter and the new shipyards."

"Well, maybe they'll take one look and decide the job's too big and send us on to Jupiter." McQueen shrugged when the other two looked at him askance. "It might happen."

"And pigs fly." Ross shook his head. "No, we'll be stuck at Dicte, at the whim of whoever it is."

"What about patrols and the like?" asked McQueen, frowning at what little remained of his mystery meat.

"The 6-4 is out there right now. They'll go through the wormhole with us and land after the next squadron launches. We have five wormholes to go through and four days of travel." Ross sighed. "I'm not happy about this, but at least the possibility of being ambushed is greatly reduced this route."

"What about the 5-8?"

"I'm afraid that your squad is grounded. With all but one cockpit trapped, I have no choice. You'll have to practice on simulators."

Frowning, McQueen nodded, realizing the truth behind the words. It was going to be hard enough rotating the various squadrons for the guard patrol. Throwing the 5-8 into other people's cockpits would only create problems, mostly with the other people.

"You know, Ty, you could work on some of those projects we've talked about after duty hours." Ross tapped the table with his fingers. "You would have the time to get the information you needed and no worries about missions interfering."

"Maybe. I'll think about it." McQueen knew what Ross meant. They had been talking lately over their scotches about the war and the fact that the Earth forces were slowly being worn down, not only in numbers and materials, but morale. Surviving encounters like the one that had nearly destroyed the 'Toga by the skin of one's teeth ate into morale badly. They needed a major victory. Soon. He would need to sit down and really look the information on the war over carefully.

"Four days. Damn, but that's a long time." Silver sighed.

"That it is," agreed Ross.

Throughout the day, McQueen tried to get Silver to talk to him about Dicte. He knew the history of the Battle of Dicte, the true history, not the one recorded in the so-called news reports. The 110th had been a company with a large number of Invitroes. The 110th had been just one of many squadrons. Of the five hundred men and women in the 110th, only a hundred and two walked off the field of battle. Silver had known just about all of the dead, which had including everyone above her in rank. She had been the most senior lieutenant left alive on the battle field and it had fallen to her to keep the 110th alive, especially after their support, the 76th Air Cavalry company, had withdrawn rather than face the AIs in the company of Invitro Marines. That she had managed to save the lives of even a hundred Marines with no backup against a thousand AIs had earned her an immediate field promotion to captain and XO of the remainder of the 110th under a new commanding officer. The years had not been kind to the 110th and the only surviving members were Silver and the trio.

But Silver refused to talk about it. She retreated to the Tunn after the day's work was done, including the nightly ten klick run through the Saratoga and work out afterward. Sensing her irritable mood, the others in the squad had behaved, even the trio to McQueen's astonishment.

He took a seat beside her at the bar. "Lysa, please, talk to me," he said softly.

"No." It came out flat, but quiet.

From across the room, a lieutenant stood, swaying from too much drink. He ignored his drinking buddies who were frantically pulling on his arms. "Hey, colonel, what about a story? I hear you tell good fantasy ones. What about some heavy sexy ones, eh? Ones you wouldn't tell your wife?"

One of the other lieutenants at the table dropped his head into his hands in despair. "You dumb-ass, you stupid dumb-ass."

Slowly McQueen turned around, his face frozen.

From the 58th's table, where they had been playing poker, Hawkes stood up, his hand thrown down onto the table. "You will apologize to the colonel, Lieutenant Baker, for insulting him."

It surprised McQueen how well Hawkes managed to keep his temper under control, but then as he studied the members of the squad, he saw the harried expressions on their faces and realized they had been dealing with it all day. Hawkes had just stopped losing his temper over it.

"Or what, Hawkes? You going to show me what kind of sex filled stories the both of you can tell?" Baker weaved in place. He failed to notice the rest of his comrades hurriedly vacating the immediate vicinity, distancing themselves from his drunken insinuations.

Hawkes proceeded to do something McQueen would never have expected. Hawkes pulled his chair out, turned it around, and sat down, arms folded over the back. "You really want to know what kind of sex stories we could tell?"

"Yeah." Baker raised his beer and managed to get most of the swallow into his mouth.

"All right." Silence descended over the Tunn. Hawkes spoke in a conversational tone. "Let's see. For my part I can tell you all about rape. Being beaten to a pulp, tied up and fucked by half a dozen guys who think it's macho to fuck a tank, after all, that's what we're for, isn't it? Or perhaps you want to hear about gang bangs, oh, but again I was the one being beaten and banged. Or do you want to know about having to suck the foreman off because he had a fight with his girl friend and she refused to let him fuck her and the foreman wanted to fuck someone, so he picked me and I wanted to keep my lousy not even minimum wage job? Then there's being at the supervisor's beck and call, bending over the desk every time he wants a fuck." Hawkes gave Baker a concerned look. "Ah, Baker, you're looking a bit green there. Don't you want to hear about the five years that the colonel spent in the mines? Mining with picks and huge drill bores, no radiation protection, starvation when they didn't meet their quota for the day, gang bangs... Of course, he was one of the poor bastards being beaten and banged. Next time you're in the gym shower with him, take a good look at his body. Most of those scars came from men. Men who didn't like the way he fought them when they wanted to fuck him. Men who thought it amusing to beat him into near unconsciousness before finishing the job by fucking him senseless. After all, if they accidentally killed him, what the hell, tanks are cheap, they can get another one to take his place." Hawkes drew a breath; no one spoke, their eyes glued to Hawkes who brushed the hair back from his face. "Are those the stories you want to hear? Because, frankly, Baker, that's all there is, really. We tanks are lonely people, Baker. Who wants to be friends with one? That requires looking past all the stories, looking past all the hype, and seeing the person standing there. When your life is a fucking nightmare, but it's the only one you've got, you learn to take pleasure in other things than what's hurt you over the years." Hawkes stood up slowly. "It takes more than a dumb fuck like you with shit for brains to piss us off." Deliberately, Hawkes turned his chair around and sat down, picking up his cards.

Baker's fellow squadron mates quickly dragged Baker off before he could make any more nasty remarks. Talk resumed at a lower level than before.

"I'd say he handled that rather well, wouldn't you?" drawled Ross from behind McQueen.

Spinning around, McQueen asked, "How long have you been there?"

"Since Hawkes started. I wonder if it'll do any good."

McQueen frowned. "Those who are dead set against our kind won't be changed. Others, though, maybe."

"I was wondering if you were going to stop by tonight?"

Looking over at Silver, McQueen asked, "Well?"

"Sure. Let's go." Silver finished her beer rapidly.

McQueen watched Silver stalk out of Ross' quarters after four scotches. It had taken three scotches and a lot of pleading to talk about Dicte. He let her go, using the bond to keep track of her. It didn't surprise him when she went to their quarters with the trio. He stayed with Ross, listening to the blues, feeling the need to be soothed. Asking her to go back to Dicte was like asking the 5-8 to return to Deimos, where they had nearly starved to death while fighting the Chigs. They would go back, but there were personal demons to be fought there.

Well after his usual time to return from spending time with his best friend, he slipped into their shared quarters, wondering if it would be better to sleep in his old quarters. She lay sprawled on the bed, a pillow in her arms still wet from the tears. With a sigh, he sat down and stroked her hair before stripping and slipping in behind her, hoping to provide some comfort.

.

The sullen orange and brown planet filled the view screen as the Saratoga approached. McQueen glanced at Silver beside him, wondering if she would be all right. She had refused to say another word about Dicte since the first night and he had stopped pressing. Her nights were as bad as his had been before meeting her and they were taking their toll. Dark circles under her eyes and a short fuse, which he had to admit, she tried very hard to keep under control, marked her now.

"So, where's the Oddessy?" He was surprised at how even her voice came out.

The navigator, Lt. Commander Jackson, said, "Looks like it's on the far side of the planet. We should be in range in twenty mikes."

Crowe turned in his seat, a frown marring his dark face. "Sir, we're being hailed by a transport. A Mister Williams, says you should be expecting him. ETA, five mikes."

"Tell him Landing Pad 3," sighed Ross. "So it begins." He looked over at the two colonels. "Care to accompany me to meet our esteemed Williams?"

McQueen nodded once. Silver spun on her heel and left the bridge under the watchful eyes of both men.

"Lt. Crowe, inform Warrant Officer Johnson where to meet us." Ross waited for Crowe's acknowledgment before leaving the bridge. "Has she said anything more?" asked Ross quietly as they moved toward the elevator where she stood impatiently.

"No. It was bad enough the first time. Fighting tooth and nail for survival and then having to bag and tag her friends. This isn't going to be an easy time for her... or me. She's fighting really hard to keep the temper under control."

"I know." The elevator doors opened and Ross gestured for Silver to enter first. "Lysa, you don't have to do this."

"I want to." Her back ramrod straight, the muscles along her jaw rippled.

Outside Landing Pad 3, they found Johnson pacing back and forth, hair greasy and matted. After one look, Ross snapped, "Haven't you rested, Johnson?"

Johnson wrenched to a stop, ran a stained hand through his hair, making it stand up slightly. He frowned. "Um, I think I've slept a couple of hours here and there, sir."

"Have you eaten or showered?"

"I've eaten when I've had the chance and showered twice, sir." Johnson straightened up. "I've been busy, sir. We've managed to remove one, one, sir, cockpit from the tracks. We had to cut the shaft apart which meant rerouting five major wiring runs. I can only hope whoever this fellow is has some better ideas of what the hell is wrong. We're stumped. Cutting the cockpits out is too time consuming. There has to be a better way."

"Where the hell is the transport? They should have landed by now." Ross activated the intercom. "Bridge, Ross."

"Sir, the transport just called. They're doing a fly-by."

"A what?" Ross stared at the intercom.

"The pilot said Williams wants to see what's been done to his baby, sir."

"His baby?" Ross shook his head. "Great. Just what I need. Some nut ball who thinks he can out engineer everyone else. All right, Crowe. Let me know when he finally decides to land."

"Yes, sir." Crowe sounded relieved that the commodore wasn't going to yell at him.

Silver ducked out of the receiving room and returned a moment later with a coffee mug which she handed to Johnson. He nodded and started drinking it down, his thoughts obviously not in the same room with the others.

"Sir," Crowe's voice sounded ten minutes later. "They're landing in three mikes."

Five minutes later, they got their first look at Williams. Not quite five and a half feet tall, the lean, wiry man leaped out of the transport before the door had completely opened. Slung over his right shoulder was a sea-bag and in his left hand was a large tool box. His red-blond hair managed to look unruly despite the two-inch length and a frown marred the mid-thirties man's forehead. The brown coveralls he wore were clean, but stained with oil and grease. He dropped the tool box onto a chair and set the sea-bag over it.

"Damn, but it's good to see her again." Despite the obvious enthusiasm in his tenor voice, Williams continued to frown. He gave the room a quick look and nodded, turning to Johnson. "Ok, Johnson, is it? I've read the reports. Now I need to know from you just what the hell you've been doing to my baby." His brown eyes darkened.

"Your baby?" Ross growled.

Williams looked over and blinked as if seeing Ross for the first time. "And you are?"

"Commodore Ross. The Saratoga is my ship."

"She's a beauty, she is. Still running strong despite the beatings she's taken. I build them right."

"You build them? Do I hear you correctly?" Ross frowned, hands on his hips.

"The 'Toga is my ship, commodore. I created her. It took me two years to design her."

Johnson shook his head. "The 'Toga is a Colin Powell class carrier."

"Like hell she is." Williams whipped around to face Johnson, raising the appropriate fingers as he spat the words out. "Two years to design her. Three years to go through the contractual nightmare of getting permission to build her, only to have thrice-damned AeroTech, who had promised full cooperation, order me to build her just like the Powell series. Well, I didn't. I built her better."

"Are you telling me that the manuals we have are useless?" Johnson straighted with a glare.

Williams' frown deepened. "Let me at a computer console." He spotted the one near the door and shouldered aside Johnson to get to it. After some quick typing, he said, "Good. My password's still good. Now let's see... damn the bastards. They erased my manuals and gave you the Powell series." Shaking his head, he said, "Bring my sea-bag over here. I've got copies. Let's change this right now. Then as we work, I'll input whatever changes you've put in since she left."

"As we work?" Johnson had grabbed the sea-bag, straightened and stared at Williams.

"What? You think I'm going to let some dumb shit AeroTech jackass work on my baby? Hell, no. I'll do the work myself if I have to." Williams grimaced. "Come on. The sooner I get these manuals inputed the sooner we can go see what the problem is." He rummaged through the sea-bag, dragging out an optical disc player and its disc case. Flipping through the discs, he asked, "So what is the problem, exactly?"

"Hammerhead cockpits are stuck in the tracks."

"Ok, so you had to rebuild all of that, correct?" Williams took out a disc and inserted it into the computer's drive.

"Yes."

"Damn, baby, but you proved me right. I built you to take punishment they hadn't even dreamed of." Williams stroked the bulkhead before typing some more. "Ok, that's downloading. Should take about ten mikes. It's huge. So, how many landing bays are out of operation?"

"Only one set where the cockpits are actually stuck, but the other four that we had to rebuild are showing signs of sticking. So we're down to only one functional landing bay." Johnson stood behind Williams, his eyes glued to the graphics flashing by on the screen.

"When you rebuilt..."

McQueen slipped his arms through those of the other two officers and drew them out of the room. "I think we're about to be left very far behind. Williams is a true engineer. We won't be able to understand a thing in a few seconds. Let's go get some lunch."

By 1700, Ross had over a dozen complaints about Williams just barging into areas and disregarding orders to vacate the premises. Areas like Engineering, Weapons Control, and finally, to Ross' irritation, the Command Bridge.

Williams appeared on the bridge, Johnson at his side. He marched right up to Ross and folded his arms across his chest. "Johnson's told me some of what the 'Toga's been through. Even if half of it were true, she performed better than I'd ever anticipated. But the problem now is that you have an accumulation of additions and modifications done assuming the ship was built one way. If this were a Powell series, you'd be having no difficulties, but the 'Toga isn't. When you did the massive rebuild, systems were unintentionally screwed up. It's going to take months to straighten them out. Fortunately, I have months to spend aboard. You're scheduled to be here for three weeks. I'll tackle the really difficult and dangerous jobs now. The others we can do in space once I've had the proper materials loaded on board."

"Just a moment," Ross barely kept from snarling. "You're going to be on board when we leave here?"

"Well, it's that or take the 'Toga out of commission while we rip her guts out to put her back into working order. It will take," Williams stared at the ceiling, obviously calculating the time involved, "roughly six months dry dock time to rip her apart and put her back together correctly. Are you ready to sit out the war that long?" He turned his brown eyes on Ross.

Ross shook his head. "We need every ship."

"That's what I thought. So, I'm going to do what I can in the next three weeks. I could do a lot more if I had more trained personnel, but AeroTech deliberately yanked three quarters of my work crew five days ago."

Feeling as though he were about to enter a land mine zone, Ross asked, "What type of trained personnel do you need?"

"Cutters, welders, riveters, that sort of thing."

Relief flooded Ross; he could actually help speed up the process, he hoped. "Over a quarter of the crew are qualified, though not certified. They were trained while rebuilding the 'Toga. If you don't run them into the ground in your zeal to fix everything at once, I'll let you have them."

"Done."

A feeling of having been had raced through Ross. He turned cold eyes on Johnson. "He already knew that, didn't he?"

"I might have mentioned it, sir." Johnson shrugged.

Williams chuckled. "Don't worry, commodore. I intend to make the 'Toga right again. And to do that, everyone except for the work crews are to be off her by 1800 tomorrow."

"What?"

"Part of the work is overhauling her engines. They're due for it anyway. That will take one week and it will be necessary to open entire sections of the interior to space and then fill with a special gas to draw off the radiation. Also, most of the crew decks will need to be cut away in order to fix several of the problems." Williams briskly rubbed his hands together. "We'll have all the Hammerheads, ISSAPCs, and crafts flown down to Dicte. They can be overhauled on the surface. Might as well do them all while the 'Toga is being worked on and I have the material and means to do so." A wicked smile crossed his thin lips. "Oh, I'm going to enjoy this. AeroTech thought they'd be crushing me by making me work on what they thought was one of their own ship designs. Instead I'm going to make the 'Toga back into the beautiful ship she was initially."

"Don't you work for AeroTech?" Ross couldn't help asking.

"Of course. That doesn't mean I have to like them. A bunch of fucking bastards are running the show and, even out here I know that if they don't get stopped soon, humanity is in big trouble. But, then, that's why I'm out here and not on Earth." Williams saw Ross' troubled look. "Don't worry, commodore, I know I can be a pain in the ass, but I'm a damned good engineer and I know what I'm doing. In three weeks, you'll be able to take the 'Toga back to the war." He laughed. "In the meantime, enjoy the facilities on the planet. You'll be the first full crew to use them since I built them a year ago."

"I suspect I have no choice," Ross said slowly.

"Not if you want to keep the Chigs from rolling over our forces." Williams shrugged. "Sorry, but I've been running computer simulations. The longer the 'Toga is out of the war, the further into human space the Chigs will advance."

"Get off my bridge," growled Ross. "We'll have the ship evacuated by 1800 tomorrow."

"Good. Night, commodore."

"Can you believe the little shit said that to me?" Ross shook his head over his scotch, giving McQueen and Silver a shrewd look.

McQueen leaned back in his chair. "I talked to Johnson after dinner. He says that yes, Williams is a pain in the ass, but that he really knows his business. Williams was apparently impressed with the extra width we managed to squeeze into the corridors when we rebuilt. He had already expanded the corridors six inches over the Powell design and to see the extra foot we deliberately put in apparently made him smile."

"So Johnson agrees."

"Yes. Williams was on the ship design and building committee eight years ago. The youngest member. He won a contract to build the 'Toga, using his own design. As he told us, AeroTech then turned around and refused to allow him to use his design. He built the 'Toga six years ago and was sent here to build a repair station that would double as a R&R facility shortly after the AIs were crushed here. He's been here ever since." McQueen gave Silver a worried glance. "From what little is in the database, it looks like he's done a fantastic job."

"And I'll get to see it first hand." Silver finished her single scotch. "Look, I'm not very good company tonight. I think I'll turn in." She set her glass down and stood up.

McQueen rose, catching her arm lightly. "Lysa, I don't want you alone right now."

"I'm not going to do anything rash, Ty. I just need to be alone for a while."

He reluctantly let her go. "I'll be there shortly."

"Take your time. Enjoy yourself."

The door shut behind her, McQueen sighed. "Glen, she's been so moody the last several days. She's not shutting me out exactly, but her mind is clearly elsewhere, or when."

"I've noticed. With luck, these demons can be laid to rest here." Ross reached over for the scotch bottle. "I think we both need another."

Opening the door to their quarters, McQueen entered as quietly as he could. In the faint light he could see her wrapped around a pillow and he sighed softly, stripping off his flight suit. Wrapping his arm around her once under the covers, he hugged her, trying to let her feel his love.

She turned over in his arms and hugged him back tightly, tears still flowing.

Stroking and kissing her hair, he closed his eyes, aware of her misery at being in this system. "I'm here. We can get through this together. Maybe it won't be as bad as you think. It could always be worse," he joked softly.

A choked laugh was her response. "And it could rain the entire time." She beat her fist lightly against his shoulder as if trying to drive away the images in her mind. "So are we waiting until the very last to go down or are we getting it over with quickly?"

"I thought perhaps quickly." He kissed her properly. "I looked up the recreational facilities, Lysa, and they are quite good." He hesitated for a second before saying softly, "There's even a memorial to those who died here."

Her eyes closed and she turned her head away, fresh tears falling.

Opening the bond between them, he gave her his love and proceeded to show it. His mouth moved down to her throat, kissing and nibbling all the way. By the time he reached her breasts and gave each one thorough attention, she was no longer crying tears, but running her hands through his hair. Further down her body he traveled, his mouth never leaving her flesh as he parted her thighs gently. Flicking his tongue over her clit, he eased two fingers into her and started working to give her more pleasure, intent on driving away the demons completely.

She shook with the force of her climax several minutes later, but he didn't stop until he felt her tighten around his fingers for the second time. As she recovered, he licked her clean and slid back up the bed to curl around behind her, arms holding her tightly to him.

"Ty-"

"No, Lysa. I did this for you. This is part of being married to you. I get to hold you and comfort you for a change." He laughed softly in her ear. "And I get to enjoy doing it."

"All right, love."

"Now, just go to sleep. I'm right here. I'm not going anywhere." He held her as she slipped into sleep, resting his chin on her head, staring into the darkness, hoping the next three weeks wouldn't be as distressful as he feared.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter Seven - 2 Souls Bound Page 20

Disclaimer: The names of all 'Space: Above and Beyond' characters contained herein are the property of Glen Morgan and James Wong, Hard Eight Productions and the Fox Broadcasting Network. These names have been used without their permission. All else is my own creation.

Rating: NC17 Language, violence and graphic sex.

Spoilers: None

Warning: Sex, Language.

Author: Vasalysa, with many undying thanks to Geek.

E-Mail: 

2 Souls Bound

Chapter Seven

Following the tug of the bond, McQueen strode through the recreation facility, avoiding the various crew members or townspeople hawking to the new military faces that were milling around in the extreme early morning. For the last week, he had worked hard to keep Silver diverted, her mind occupied as much as her body. The entire squad had pitched in, insuring that she didn't have time to fret or brood. At night, he held her tightly. They had all avoided the site two miles north of the facility where the battle had been fought.

This morning he had been the only occupant in their bed. When she hadn't returned after ten minutes, he had felt along the bond and knew she was at the battlefield. A quick shower and he had slipped into his flight suit.

Just before the paved street ended, he changed his mind about not eating and fished in his pocket for the local currency, brass coins. At the nearest food stall with an average number of people standing before it, he handed over a medium coin for a large meat pasty and a coffee in a mug. Two small coins were handed to him in change and he nodded his thanks. Wolfing down the pasty, he admitted that the locals made a mean all-in-one meal. The coffee was the perfect temperature for drinking and he set the empty mug on the counter.

The paved street changed into a hard packed dirt trail wide enough for an APC to drive on. Dust rose as he marched along, coating his lower legs red. He sped up to a double time march, enjoying the feeling of running on something other than the hard decks of the Saratoga. A breeze blew past, creating mini dust devils that he burst through. The grassy plain to the east bent under the breeze and he smiled on seeing the local equivalent of deer bounding away through the waist high grass toward the dark forest three miles away.

He slowed to a walk when he spotted the sign declaring, 'Dicte Battlefield Memorial.' A few feet beyond the first sign was a second one, stating 'Watch your step, please.' Wondering what the second sign meant, he glanced around the area, noticing that the grass had been cut and mounds of dirt were scattered about with small signs. Frowning, he started toward the nearest dirt mound, curious to see if they were graves. But he remembered that Silver had said they had recovered all of the dead. All of the natural borns would have been sent wherever requested, so were the Invitroes of the 110th buried here?

The truth hit him like a physical blow when he reached the mound. A foxhole, immaculately kept free of grass inside, five body outlines marking the last breaths of the men and women who had died in it. He bowed his head and knelt to read the sign. '110th Company, 54th Squadron, Lt. Hun Khan, deceased Dicte. Private 1st Class Bernard 'Barry' Sabol, deceased Dicte. Private 1st Class Dale Hershey, deceased Deimos. Private 1st Class David Pritchard, deceased. Private 1st Class Jeanne Bradley, deceased.' Tears threatened to fall as he forced himself back to his feet.

Where had she been? Which one would she go to? The foxholes easily occupied six acres of ground. The emotions this place held were enough to make him hesitate to open himself further to locate her, but he did so, skirting foxholes, not reading the names, knowing only he needed to find her. Almost to the northern border of the memorial, he sank down onto the ground beside a foxhole, glancing at the sign. '2nd Lt. Lysa Silver, alive' headed the list. None of the other names were known to him.

She sat at the bottom, unmindful of the dust.

Her voice, low and flat, took him by surprise a moment later. "I was the only one who made it out of this foxhole. I ran to the western one while the AIs started slaughtering us. I picked up Russell, Finch, St. John and Peters there. The AIs slammed into us there. They concentrated on me and I destroyed them. We moved to the next western one and the next before coming back this way..." She rose abruptly, slapping her hands against her thighs to get rid of the dust. "Afterward, we came back through, recording where everyone died and how before taking them out. Some we only identified because we found their dog tags. Adam took tissue samples of them all so we could make positive identification in Sickbay." Walking over to the dirt steps, still preserved, she said, "I drove the stakes to keep these steps intact. This will the be seventh time I'll have used them." She quickly climbed out and held out a hand to him. "All the Invitroes are here. Buried over the hill, each grave with a name."

Standing he said, "Good." He waited a moment before asking, "Lysa, are you ok now?"

"Yes. It helps. It's a good memorial."

He rubbed the dirt and grass off his posterior and looked around. "Yes, it's a good place."

"Did you eat before coming out?" She started back toward the road.

"I bought a meat pasty and some coffee before hitting the trail."

"They weren't out yet when I headed here. Maybe I'll have one when we get back."

"I think I will too."

She smiled at him, more naturally than he had seen for nearly two weeks. He smiled back.

Ross glanced up from his breakfast and grinned on seeing the two colonels approaching, finishing up their meat pasties. Raising an eyebrow at the dust coating their legs, he waved them to sit down. "Out early?"

"The memorial," Silver admitted quietly before popping the last bite of her pasty in her mouth.

Giving her a hard look, Ross nodded. The strain was no longer so evident. "It helped I take it?"

"They've all moved on." Silver poured herself some coffee from the urn. "Even the Invitroes have."

McQueen sighed softly. The knowledge that he had a soul and had lived before, at least twice, still made him feel uneasy. It would be easy to dismiss such talk, except one didn't dismiss the equivalent of angels or his father in law. Charles Silver had told him before he married Lysa that they had met before at least twice and he had been a stubborn, bull headed soul even then. The elder Silver had accepted him unconditionally into the Silver clan based on who he was now, not on past lives, but it still unsettled him to remember that the vampires knew, and accepted, the fact they had lived before. Most strived to live good lives, working toward the time they would not need to be reborn, a lot like the Hindu beliefs. Jalke, on the other hand, a guardian of the vampires or rather the mother of their current familial system, had told him that she had known from the time his soul had been born that he would be one of her children and had watched over him through his lives. He knew those lives had to have been difficult; apparently that was his style, to live as the outsider, taking on the challenges.

Silver's voice jerked him out of his thoughts. "There are no ghosts here. They are gone."

"That fits with what I've heard." Ross speared his sausage link. "Shortly after the memorial was built, no one felt anything other than peaceful out there."

"I could feel the pain, the fear," McQueen said ever so softly.

"It's soaked into the earth. It will take a long time for it to dissipate. The bond opens you to the sensations. Just close it down next time." She patted his arm and drank some of her coffee.

Reaching for the urn himself, McQueen said, "So are we ready for some serious relaxing now?"

"Oh, yes." Silver grinned over the top of her mug. "Both public and private." She looked at Ross, her eyes emerald, head cocked ever so slightly toward McQueen.

Ross felt his breath catch in his throat. He already knew what that look invited and he shifted his gaze to McQueen, only to see the briefly puzzled look dissolve into a knowing, inviting grin as the other realized what Silver was alluding to. Licking his lips, Ross tried to block the image of his friend on a bed beneath him, crying out with pleasure. His pulse raced and he fought to think with his upper brain, not lower one, as his wife had always said. "Um..."

"Think about it, Glen," McQueen said, rising, holding his hand out to Silver. "Tonight, perhaps?"

"Ah, yes... I'll think about it." Watching the two walk away, Ross rubbed a sweaty palm on his thigh, wondering if he dared.

McQueen slid his arm around her waist. "Ok, love, what's on the agenda, besides making Glen uncomfortable?"

"It just sort of sneaked out." Silver smiled at him. "I want to go hunting this afternoon. Other than that, nothing is planned. What did you have in mind?"

"Well, you have been rather distant the last week and a half."

"Sorry. If you want, I can make it up to you..." The hallway was empty at the moment and she slid her hand down his front to cup him.

"Sounds like a plan to me." He could feel his body responding already.

They were sitting down to lunch when Terrilli paused by their table. "Could I join you for a few mikes?"

McQueen nodded. He still didn't regard Terrilli as a friend, but he was more than an acquaintance. He had found over the last three weeks that Terrilli had excellent tastes in food, music and books. By arranging public meetings where they talked about the various things, they had made it clear they were merely continuing to talk when they retired as a group to their quarters. Several times, Monty had accompanied them, still trying to reconcile his new knowledge.

Sitting down, Terrilli glanced at Silver. "You're looking better, Lysa. You went out?"

She nodded. "This morning. It took me this long to do it." Sipping her coffee, she said, "Ok, what's up, Anton? You aren't really interested in whether my ghosts are laid to rest or not."

"Well, yes I am." Terrilli dropped his gaze to the table top for a moment before raising it to meet her sharp eyes. "See, I was wondering if you were going to be... um, exploring the local wildlife? If so, I'd like to come. I haven't done so in a very long time."

McQueen took a sharp breath. Was Terrilli really saying he wanted to go out into the wilderness and shape change? Remal could do that, but it took an enormous effort on their part. It wasn't as easy for them as it was for the vampires.

"Anton, you know how dangerous it can be if you haven't in some time." Silver kept her eyes on Terrilli. "It's a risk."

"I know. But this will be the only time I'll get to even try." Terrilli sighed. "It's all so damned frustrating. The dreams, the need, the desire..." He shook his head. "I haven't lost my head yet. I just want to try."

Giving Silver a look of 'It's up to you,' McQueen sat back, his mind racing. The three of them going off alone would look a bit suspicious.

For a long moment, Silver looked at Terrilli. "All right. This afternoon."

"Thanks." Terrilli sagged in relief.

"Let's make it a group picnic. Both squads. Ross. You two can slip away for a bit." McQueen spun his coffee mug around.

"Excellent thinking, Ty." She got up, leaned over the table and kissed him.

Reddening, he stared into his mug.

"There was something else I wanted to ask." Terrilli sat back in his chair, no longer unsure of himself. "I was wondering about war games. This would be a good place to do some. Take the squads out and let them practice on one another."

McQueen smiled. "I agree. How about tomorrow afternoon? No more than two other sessions though. After all, we're here to relax."

"Sounds good. We'll be ready. What time?" Terrilli smiled.

"How about 1300?" Silver sipped her coffee. "That way we can really run them into the ground. Work them hard before dinner."

"Evil, evil, woman." McQueen laughed. "So be it. They'll hate us thoroughly for interrupting their fun with war games."

"Well, no one ever said it would be all fun and games." Her eyes sparkled back at him.

Terrilli pushed away from the table. "We can tell them at the picnic. What time?"

"It's 1130 now. Let's try to round them up by 1300." Silver rose. "Come on. One of us gets to organize and pack the picnic lunch for damn near twenty and I know it won't be you." She dropped her hand down onto McQueen's shoulder and leaned over to whisper in his ear, "You get to inform them of the plan."

"Truly evil, woman." Standing up, McQueen gave her a quick hug. "Where shall we meet?"

"Here. Oh, you might have them bring their swimsuits."

He nodded and watched her leave, headed for the kitchen. "I don't envy her this job."

"Nor do I. The cooks are good, but don't like to hand things out." Terrilli smiled, shaking his head. "Both Dobbs and Jinx got thrown out of the kitchen trying to mooch a snack."

McQueen shook his head. "Fools. We better go round up the squads. They'll be scattered from her to the mountains if we don't hurry."

Silver grinned as she saw the various squad members come trickling into the mess. Expressions ranged from glad to resigned. She hoped to surprise them all with where they were going. It had been fun getting both a place and the food from the cooks.

She had taken a chair into the kitchen and sat down where she was out of the way but could watch. The head cook, a large black man, had seen her and sent one of his men over to talk to her.

"What are you doing here? We don't hand out food between meals," he had snapped.

"What? Oh, I'm not here for food. I just think better when I'm watching it being made. Must be all the time I spent in the kitchen when I was a kid. I can't go sit in a vendor's kitchen. I just need..." She had shaken her head. "Nah, that's all right. You probably couldn't help anyway."

"Help with what?"

"My CO has decided that we need to take the squad out for a picnic, but I can't decide which of the vendors to buy from. I mean, they're all good, but if I buy from one, then they won't have anything to sell to anyone else. And I'm also afraid... well, it's not your problem."

"What's not my problem?"

"Well, no one seems to have anything big enough to pack the food into. I don't want to poison the squad." She had shrugged. "So I came in here to think. I mean, I have to get enough food for twenty, find something to pack it in and..." Getting up, she had sighed. "This hasn't been very helpful. I guess I just better go out and see if I can find a vendor who has something everyone likes."

"Why do that? You can feed them our stuff."

"But I told you, I'm not here for food."

"Why not? Our food not good enough?"

"That's not it. You don't give out food as you've said."

"If you're taking your people out, we might as well feed them out there as here. Just sit tight. I'll have your food in a few mikes."

The head cook had shaken his head and walked over. "You're good. You're the first one to get anything out of Joey. So what else do you need?"

"We're looking to do war games tomorrow and I'd like a suitable place."

"Talon Valley. You going to need to feed your troops tomorrow as well?"

"Now that you mention it..." She had given the head cook a grin.

"Let me know tonight what time you plan on leaving and I'll have the food ready for you."

"Thanks."

"Oh, and you can get a vehicle for your group at Barker's. Tell him Mackeral sent you." At her raised eyebrow, he had grinned. "MacKinney. Someone started calling me Mackeral in Basic and it's stuck. And you are?"

"Colonel Silver."

"Ok, Colonel. You go get your vehicle, park it out back and I'll make sure it's loaded."

"Thanks, Mackeral."

The large aircar had cost some money for two days usage, but it would carry the squads and their gear both days. Now all they had to do was get everyone together.

McQueen walked in with West and Vansen, talking in low voices. He glanced up, saw her wave at him, and grinned. Patting the two on the back, he walked over to her. "So?"

"Got the food and an aircar for two days."

"How did you manage that?"

"Trade secret and no scotch."

He chuckled. "Ok. It's almost time. So that monster parked outside is ours?"

"Yes. I signed you up as a driver for it too."

"Well, it's not the Phantom 2200, that's for sure." He remembered driving the luxury aircar with fondness. It had been as good or even better than a Hammerhead in responsiveness in the atmosphere despite it's being over three times the size. "You going to be navigator?"

"The computer. I have a location that sounds good."

"Ok."

Terrilli walked in with Monty, followed by a sullen Blackie. Silver shook her head. "Looks like Blackie doesn't like the idea of a picnic. Too bad."

"He doesn't seem to be enjoying anything down here."

"That's Blackie. Always determined to have a lousy time off the battlefield."

Shaking his head, McQueen said, "Well, let's round them up and load them."

Nestled in the nearby mountains, Talon Valley started out two miles wide at one end, ran for nearly three miles before it started to curve and narrow to only a half mile. A small river cascaded down over a hundred feet at the wider end, meandering through the valley to pour violently out a small gorge at the narrow end. Trees and meadows fought to control the valley.

Setting the aircar down near the waterfall, McQueen smiled on seeing the large, mostly still, pool dug out by the water. "This looks good."

"Yes, it does." Silver unsnapped her seat belt as he turned the engine off. "Ok, everyone out. Blackie, Leon, grab the coolers from the trunk."

Grumbling, Blackie slammed open the door and jumped outside. Leon shook his head at Blackie's bad mood and followed quietly. The rest filed outside with 'Phousse and Wang waiting until the others were gone before leaving.

"Hey, anyone remember their bathing suits?" yelled 'Phousse as she reached the water's edge.

A chorus of yes's sounded with only a few no's, notably Blackie and Raddie.

'Phousse looked up at Silver. "When are we eating, Colonel?"

"How about after a swim? There are plenty of towels in the trunk. I came prepared." As 'Phousse darted back inside the aircar, Silver opened the trunk. Blackie and Leon pulled out the coolers while Silver brought out the towels. With a grin to McQueen, she removed her boots and unzipped her flight suit. Her grin widened as his breath caught at the sight of the trim black one piece swim suit she wore underneath. "Told you I came prepared."

He reached out, pulled her close and kissed her. In her ear, he growled, "God I love to see you in that. But I hate to have others see you."

"It's all yours, love." She kissed him back. "So where's yours?"

"I'm wearing mine too." He quickly unlaced his boots and set them to the side before peeling out of his flight suit and turtle neck. His matching black trunks molded to his body and thighs. Folding the flight suit and setting it on top of his boots, he grinned. "Race you to the water. Last one in is Chig spooge."

"You think so?" She laughed. "Go."

Side by side, they ran through the squadrons and dove into the water, coming up and starting to swim across.

By the time they returned, most of the people were in the water. Blackie, Vansen, and Raddie were the only ones not in the water. Vansen had removed her boots and rolled up her flight suit legs above her knees to wade in the water. On the bank, Blackie just scowled at the people daring to enjoy themselves.

Walking over to Vansen, Silver asked quietly, "Didn't bring a suit, Shane?"

"Well, um, it's just that..." Vansen reddened and looked at the rocks under her feet. She mumbled something further.

Having caught the single word, 'month', Silver smiled. "Left leg, lower pocket. Go on, hurry up or you'll miss out on the fun." Giving Vansen a little shove, she said, "Go, Shane. You'll regret it otherwise. Even Paul's out there enjoying himself." She nodded to where Paul had just come up from under the water near Vanessa.

"Hawkes!" McQueen stood shaking his head at the thoroughly naked Invitro. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

"Swimming!" announced Hawkes as he dove off a rock into the deep water near the waterfall. He came up and swam over. "I don't want to get my shorts wet, sir."

"Don't come whimpering to me when various parts of your anatomy get sunburned then." McQueen shook his head again and waded over to Silver. "Let's go see how deep the water really is."

Several minutes later, Vansen ran and dove into the water, her light blue swimsuit outlining her form. Hawkes started paralleling her course.

Nearly two hours later, McQueen led the way back to shore. Everyone was pleasantly tired and ravenously hungry. Raddie had finally crept into the water, his oversized trunks threatening to slid down to his knees as he walked. Towels were handed out, enough for everyone to sit down, or stretch out, as Hawkes promptly did on his stomach, in the sun.

Silver brought out the table in the aircar's trunk and with McQueen's help set it up. Within minutes, they had the food and drinks laid out, ready to eat.

Hawkes grabbed a second towel, wrapping it around his waist and promptly headed for the food. He reached it only seconds ahead of West and Vansen.

Having sampled everything, Silver nodded to McQueen and moved back to the aircar, picking up her gear. He followed her, grabbing his stuff. They dressed quickly and laid their swim suits out on the aircar's engines to dry.

"Shane." McQueen waited until he had her attention. "We'll be back in a bit."

"Yes, sir," she answered with a smile that the rest of the squad echoed.

"Damn, but they think I have only one thing on my mind," he chuckled as he headed into the woods.

"Don't you?" Quickly moving up beside him, Silver slid her arm around his waist and her other hand down his front. "Nothing says we can't have some fun while we're out here."

"With Terrilli hanging about? No thank you. I don't fancy him seeing what is mine."

The snap in his tone made Silver smile. "Jealous, love? Don't be. I've no interest in Anton."

"But he has plenty of interest in you."

"Ty, be fair. He's never asked for more."

With a forced sigh, McQueen said, "I know. I know the entire reason he's interested is because you're the only vampire on the 'Toga."

"I'm working on it."

"So where the hell is he?"

"I don't know. He could be on a mission."

They walked for about a quarter mile, hand in hand. A small glade suited Silver's purpose and he sat on a small boulder.

"What about Terrilli?"

"He'll find us." Silver smiled and kissed him again. "Relax. He probably headed off in a different direction. In the meantime..." She sat on his thighs and ran her hands through his short silver hair. "I love doing that." As she kissed his jaw and moved back toward his ear, she whispered, "By the way, our quarters are soundproofed. Interested in some navel play?" Her tongue swept over the raised navel on his neck.

A shudder coursed through McQueen and he groaned, his body telling him it wanted sex now. Just the memory of what she could do to him with his navel made him ache. "Dammit, Lysa, why'd you have to do that now?"

"Because you are getting too upset about this." She breathed on his navel.

His hands clenched on her hips as she dipped her tongue into the opening. Sheer, unadulterated pleasure swept through him and he wasn't aware she had unzipped his flight suit until her hand wrapped firmly around his cock and stroked it. Her tongue running over his navel dragged a groan from him and he started unzipping her flight suit.

"To hell with Terrilli," he growled, pulling the flight suit back over her shoulders. Reaching down, he unlaced her boots and yanked them off before lifting her up and dragging the flight suit down to her ankles. The sensation of her finger rubbing the slit of his cock and another finger lightly caressing his navel made him gasp. Frantically he shed his own boots and pulled the flight suit down to his waist, picking her up and letting it fall to the ground. Lowering her to the grass, he pulled her shorts down even as she did the same to his. Her hand returned to the back of his neck and he moaned, diving down onto her, burying himself in her with one stroke, sliding in easily. He shoved her tank top up so he could latch onto a breast, licking, nibbling, sucking, while he started pumping into her hard.

She lifted his chin and smiled. He moved up and kissed her, thrusting his tongue into her in rhythm with his lower body. One of her hands roamed down his side and back to knead his buttocks while the other ran through his hair. Sliding his hands under her shoulders, he dropped his head to her shoulder and released the control he had kept his body under for so many years when having sex. He knew there was no way he could hurt her and that, in fact, she loved it when he pounded into her with all of his strength, something he didn't dare do on the Saratoga. Too many ears abounded there. Here, though, here in the wilderness, with no one around, he could cut loose.

"Go for it, Ty. Give it to me. Let me feel you," she whispered in his ear, her finger tracing a circle around his navel.

With a needy moan, he did just that. His thrusts came hard and furious, his body fueled by the touches she continued to place on his navel, until he reached a realm beyond rational thought. His climax took him by surprise, making him jerk and shudder before sinking down onto his elbows over her, gulping for breath, feeling her muscles tightened around him..

"That's my Ty," she said quietly a moment later. Caressing his sweat soaked body, she said, "Looks like you'll need another swim, love." She pushed him onto his back and took his hard cock into her mouth, sucking him dry. "God, you taste good, Ty."

"That he does, Sa." The gravelly voice came from behind him.

Too tired to even move for several minutes, McQueen just closed his eyes. "So, what are you doing here, Griffon?" He didn't need to open his eyes to see the older vampire. Brown hair as short as his own atop a face that could be best described as rugged, the C-shaped scar on his temple not detracting from his looks. Piercing brown eyes that could flash with anger or darken to nearly black with passion.

"Looking for her, what else?"

"So, you found me." She stretched out beside McQueen, her hand caressing his ever so smooth stomach.

"You sent for me."

"I told you I needed your skills for Terrilli."

"I don't know Terrilli, Sa. I need you to help me find him."

"He should be here soon."

"Actually I'm already here. I didn't want to intrude." Terrilli's voice came from McQueen's left.

McQueen groaned softly. Damned, but he'd made an exhibition out of himself. A large hand rested on his thigh and he said, "So how long were you watching, Grif?" He dropped his arm to his side. Might as well face the Black Forces vampire.

"You were busy undressing her, so I figured I shouldn't interfere. I kind of like my face where it is. I didn't fancy having her rearrange it for me." There was laughter in Griffon's voice.

"And I would have. He's all mine." Her voice was sharp with warning.

"Hey, can't a fellow drool a bit?" Griffon chuckled. "I occupied myself nicely over there." He ran a hand down his hard abdomen, groin and thigh. His other hand squeezed McQueen's thigh lightly. "You're so damn delicious, McQueen."

Slapping Griffon's hand, Silver said, "None of that, Grif. He's taken _their_ sexual mores to heart. It'll take time for him to become even comfortable with the thought of spectators. And here he had two."

Pretending the slap had hurt, Griffon shook his hand and grinned. "Then I'd say he needs to practice more."

"I get plenty of the practice I want." McQueen shoved Griffon away from him and sat up, glaring at the other.

"A bit testy today, aren't we?" Griffon frowned slightly.

"Blame it on the planet."

Griffon's frown deepened and then he nodded, the frown clearing. "Sorry, Sa, McQueen. I forgot. But there are no ghosts here."

"I know that now, Grif, but it took until this morning to actually go see." Silver picked a blade of grass and started shredding it. When McQueen hugged her, she smiled. "I've been kind of hard to live with the last week or so."

"Tsk, tsk, Sa, depriving him like that." Griffon grinned and gave her a mock punch to the arm. "What a cruel thing to do to a fellow after only three months of marriage."

"You've never been married, Grif, so don't give advice." Silver shook her head. "I didn't send for you to talk about our love life any way." She reached out to her left. "Anton, come here."

Terrilli crouched beside her, his eyes on Griffon.

"Griffon, this is Anton Terrilli. You need to work with him He needs Blood and the rest, Grif. Anton, you can trust him. He's going to take care of you, help you with your problem." She cupped Anton's cheek. "Black Key, Anton. Black Key."

Terrilli hunched over and he sobbed once, hard. Looking startled, Griffon touched Terrilli and jerked his hand back. "Lysa, he-"

"I know. You have to help him. I can't. We will leave you two alone. I'm going hunting." She rose and held out a hand to McQueen. "Bring our stuff, please."

When McQueen nodded, she shifted form and padded toward the forest on the far side of the glade. He gathered up their clothes and boots, giving his grass stained socks a rueful look. Since they were already stained, he walked away from Terrilli and Griffon as the vampire gently drew Terrilli into his arms.

"Sh, it's all right. We'll deal with it in a few." Griffon's voice was soft, comforting.

McQueen walked until he reached the edge of the forest. He dressed and started into the forest in the general direction he had seen Silver go.

Slipping as she stepped over a log, Vansen cursed herself. Why the hell had she felt like she had to follow them? They were married and deserved to be able to go have some fun. Seeing McQueen almost tearing off Silver's flight suit in his haste had frozen her to the spot and she had stared, transfixed, unable to retreat. Never had she seen someone making love in such a fast, furious manner and she had even wondered what it would feel like. Then Griffon had stepped up behind her.

"They make a great couple, Vansen," his gravelly voice had said. "You better be more careful in the future." He had then walked on up and sat down about twenty feet away from the engrossed couple, unabashedly watching.

She had started to turn away, blushing furiously, when Terrilli had appeared and sat down on the other side, facing away from them, arms wrapped around his knees, chin on his arms.

It hadn't been until McQueen had finished and rolled onto his back that she had managed to pull away. Now she hurried through the forest, fully aware that she had invaded her superiors' privacy, even if they didn't know.

Slipping again, Vansen swore, looked up and froze. Before her sat a large, black, four-footed cat-like creature. Large ears dominated the short muzzled face with dark blue eyes that stared at her. As a front paw flexed the claws out of the blunt fingers, a yawn showed the many sharp teeth, including the six inch fangs. "Silver?"

A low growl rumbled in answer and the dark blue eyes glared at Vansen, displeasure evident.

"I didn't intend... I mean... I just wanted to make sure..." Vansen hugged herself. "I don't know what I was doing. I'm sorry. I didn't intend to watch, really. I just couldn't... not watch," she finished, staring at the ground.

With a speed that startled Vansen, Silver growled, lunging forward and knocking her off balance. Vansen landed on her ass, hard, and stared into the angry blue eyes only inches away. "I'm sorry," Vansen said miserably, fully aware she deserved Silver's wrath. "I've been an ass lately, haven't I?" Another growl resonated in the furred throat. "But I've spent so much time looking out for him, it's hard to stop. And I know that's now your job, but I still find myself doing it. Like today." Vansen sighed, dropping her gaze.

The semi-hands caught hold of Vansen and turned her over. Three times Silver smacked her ass, leaving the flesh stinging and the last time digging the claws in just enough that Vansen felt them. Released, Vansen quickly turned back over and wiped the tears of humiliation away with the back of her hand. "I'm sorry, Silver. Please don't tell him."

Silver shook her head, or rather, her entire upper body, and gently nosed Vansen's cheek. Her rough tongue finished the job of erasing the tears. Flinging her arms around Silver's neck, Vansen sobbed softly into the soft fur. Sitting down, Silver put a paw around Vansen's waist and waited.

After a few minutes, Vansen sniffled and pulled away, dashing away the tears. "I'm sorry, Silver. I'll try to stop doing it when you're around." Silver nodded and then nudged Vansen under the arm. "Guess I better be getting back. I'll keep the others occupied. I brought a volley ball and net."

An unmistakable grin on Silver's part and Vansen stood up. "Will you try to make it back and join us? I'm sure you're a mean volleyball player." When Silver shrugged, Vansen nodded. "Ok, I'm out of here."

Silver watched her go and then loped off deeper into the forest, headed back to where McQueen wandered around.

Forty-five minutes later, McQueen and Silver stepped out of the woods to see a ferocious volley ball game in progress. Everyone had changed back into their swim suits or shorts and the only two not playing were 'Phousse and Wang. They sat on the side lines, keeping score.

McQueen cocked an eyebrow at the fact that Raddie was the 138th's server. "Raddie?"

"He's a mean server. Can be positively wicked sometimes." Silver grinned. "Come on. Let's join in the fun."

"I've never been much for this."

"Then it's time you changed that. It's fun and great exercise. Plus it's a team sport." Silver backed him up against the aircar, her hands on either side of his body. Softly, she said, "I'll give you a massage tonight if you play. In addition to some navel play."

"How the hell can I refuse that?" He groaned, pulling her against him to let her feel what just the suggestion did to him.

"You're not supposed to want to," she purred in his ear.

"Ok, you're on. Let me change." He grabbed their dry swimsuits off the aircar's engine.

Minutes later, they stepped out of the aircar. "Ok, we've got two more. Finch, St. John, swap sides."

Shaking their heads, Finch and St. John switched sides.

Half an hour later, all fourteen were slick with sweat. McQueen bounced the ball up and watched with approval as Hawkes slammed the ball down over the net between Jinx and Leon.

"Game!" yelled Wang from his perch on a cooler. "That makes three games each. Do we leave it tied or go for a tie-breaker?"

McQueen glanced around and saw that the majority of the group appeared ready for another game. "Looks like another game." Hawkes' million watt smile sent a shiver down his back as he realized that Hawkes resembled some Greek god standing there in his shorts and bare feet. Somehow Hawkes had managed not to burn the first several days down and now he had a fantastic tan. A look at all of his squad and he saw that they all were sporting tans, giving them a healthy glow. They seemed to be enjoying the fact they were planet-side for the sole purpose of having fun.

"All right. Who gets to serve first?" asked West.

'Phousse pulled a local coin out of a pocket. "Let's see..." She looked the group over. "Leon, call it." She flipped the coin into the air.

"Heads."

Catching the coin and slapping it down on the back of her hand, 'Phousse held her hand out toward McQueen. "Sir?"

He took the couple of steps over and said, "Tails."

Blackie snarled, "Damn."

Leon tossed the ball to West, who was serving, and said, "Cool it, Blackie. It was fair. And for God's sake, stop being such a damn grouch. You're no fun at all today."

"May be I don't want to be fun."

"If you keep it up, I'll take you in hand." Leon gave Blackie a level look.

Biting his lip, Blackie nodded curtly, and sighed.

The game was hard fought, running neck and neck right to the end. The battle for the final game point ran them ragged. The ball came down just inside the make-shift court, McQueen saw and dove, bouncing the ball up before it hit the ground. He rolled onto his back, seeing Vansen do the next bounce to Hawkes. With a satisfied grin, Hawkes spiked the ball down between Blackie and Finch. Barely, Finch managed to bounce the ball up and Leon tried to spike it over the net toward McQueen, but Hawkes smacked the ball up and back, letting Vansen bounce it upward so he could return spike it. Leon almost managed to catch the ball, but it rolled off his hand at an angle and Monty tried to recover the fumble, hitting it upward. Leon went for it only to have Jinx stumble into him and the ball hit the net, falling to the ground.

"Game!" announced 'Phousse, grinning.

A ragged cheer rose from the 5-8. McQueen shook his head and said, "Good game, folks. On everyone's part."

"Jinx," growled Blackie.

"Blackie," snapped Leon. "He tripped. It happens. It's just a damned game. Cool it."

Turning away, Blackie froze. "Who the hell is that with the colonel?"

Monty looked up and then over at Silver. "Colonel?"

"It's the man I told you would be arriving when he could, sergeant." Silver added, "I don't know how long he'll be with us."

"Ok." Monty grabbed Blackie's arm as the man started to bristle and stalk forward. "No, Blackie. He's here to help the colonel."

Cursing under his breath, Blackie turned away.

His arms around Silver, McQueen whispered in her ear, "Does Blackie have some hidden feelings about Terrilli?"

"Possibly. It also could just be that Blackie doesn't like it when outsiders get involved in the squad." She shrugged. "They'll have to work it out themselves."

Terrilli walked up, Griffon at his side. "This is Griffon. He's Black Forces, so don't go getting any ideas, all right?" The members of the 1-38 nodded. Terrilli looked the group over. "That looked like a pretty tight game."

Hawkes grinned and said, "Yeah! Did you see that last play? Man, that was a tough one."

The energy level that Hawkes exuded made McQueen feel his age. "Was I ever that young?" he muttered as the younger members of the squads started talking at once, describing the various impressive moves.

"Your youth stole that energy away." Silver ran her hand up his arm. "I wouldn't trade your experience for his youth. He has far too much to learn. I'll help you learn to see things his way if you want."

"Do you think you can?" He hugged her.

"I'll do my damnest, Ty." Rubbing her head against his cheek, she smiled. "Starting tomorrow."

"What about tonight? After all, I did play the game."

"And you played extremely well. Sure you weren't putting me on?"

"I'm sure. It was different this time. I am a part of the team here. When I played before, I wasn't. I was just the needed extra body to equalize the teams." He couldn't help the bitterness in his voice.

She kissed his cheek. "Never again, love. Never again. Even when they get scattered after the war, those kids will always love you. Just like I do. You will never be just the needed extra body again."

"I hope not." He sighed. "So are we going to do the war games out here?"

"Yes. It's a good location." Caressing his arm, she looked at Wang sitting on the cooler. "Ty, we need a way to incorporate Paul into the gaming."

"Hm." He rested his chin on her shoulder, studying Wang. "He is getting better, but he's not up to the challenge. There's also the discrepancies in numbers. What if..." A smile curved his lips. "What if Paul and someone else in the squad are POWs that have to be rescued? Successfully brought out and taken to the designated LZ?"

"And you call me evil?" She chuckled. "I like it."

"Shall we call this outing to a end then? I do want my reward." He rubbed against her back side.

"I think so." Without straightening up, snuggling her shoulders into the hard chest behind her, Silver said, "Start packing up, folks. Pack your swimsuits for tomorrow. This'll be our base camp area."

Griffon drifted over to stand beside McQueen and Silver. She looked at him. "How did you get here, Grif?"

"I was dropped off a mile away. Didn't want to spook anyone." Griffon quirked a smile.

"You help pack up, you can hitch a ride back."

Griffon gave her a sharp look, saw she was serious, and nodded. "Guess I have to, if I'm going to be helping Anton."

She stopped him with a hand on his arm. "Can you, Grif? You were the only one I could think of out here."

"I think so. If not me, it'll require the High Priest. He's seriously messed up in his head. Don't worry, Lysa. I'll get him straightened out. His buffers are seriously eroded. Once they're shored up, I can start working with him." Griffon moved toward the net and started breaking down the poles.

"While Griffon's here, Terrilli doesn't need to feed off you, does he?"

"No. Grif will attend to his needs while he's here."

"Good. Now, shall we help pack?"

"Of course."

On arriving back at the base, McQueen reminded the squad to bring full combat gear the next morning and then told them to enjoy their evening. He watched them scatter, seeing that Wang and 'Phousse stayed together and that Hawkes seemed to shadow Vansen. Knowing it wasn't his business yet to interfere, he said nothing and steered Silver toward the dining area where they were supposed to meet Ross for dinner.

They spent an enjoyable hour with Ross, talking about everything except the war and the Saratoga. The point came though when McQueen just couldn't stay. He sighed and said, "Glen, I hate to say it, but I'm ready to retire already."

Only long association allowed McQueen to spot the flush of blood to his friend's face. "Ah, Ty..."

"It's ok if you don't want to, Glen."

"That's the problem. I'm not that I don't want to. It's that I'm not sure if I should."

"When you're sure, let me know." McQueen rose and stepped up beside his friend, resting his hand on Ross' shoulder. "Just let me know, my friend."

"Whatever way you want, Glen, just tell us." Smiling, Silver wrapped her arm around McQueen's waist. "See you tomorrow."

The corridors were busy as they made their way to their quarters. Once inside, McQueen locked the door and unlaced his boots, shedding them quickly. Before he could start to unzip his flight suit, his hand was stopped.

"Not yet, love. You've been under a lot of stress lately and I'm partly to blame. So, let me make it up to you." She removed her boots and flight suit, leaving on her shorts and bra. "Over here." Grabbing the zipper tag, she pulled him after her over to the bed and turned him so he faced away from the bed. "Just stand there, love."

Crouching before him, she ran her hands up his calves, kneading lightly, and he spread his legs to shoulder width as her hands traveled up his thighs, still kneading, to slide around to his buttocks. He let his head fall back when she mouthed him through the flight suit. For the several minutes she paid attention to his hardening cock, he moaned softly, wanting to rip off his flight suit and take her, but he restrained himself, wondering what she had in mind. When he started thrusting against her mouth, she moved upward to lick and kiss his throat while he rested his hands on her waist.

The zipper slid downward quickly and one of her hands pushed both the turtle neck and tank top underneath it up above his nipple. Fingers squeezed her waist as she started licking and nipping, making it erect. Her other hand began rolling and kneading the other side. Switching sides, she waited until he was moaning, kneading with his fingers, before sliding the flight suit over his shoulders and down his arms. The turtle neck and tank top went over his head and were tossed to the floor. She kissed the skin graft scars on his left shoulder as she shoved the flight suit past his hips. It fell to the carpet and she slid her hands under the shorts' waistband.

The feel of her hands on his bare buttocks, kneading, dragged a needy groan from him. "Dammit, woman, I'm getting desperate here."

"You'll last, love."

His shorts followed the flight suit, leaving him fully exposed. He was unprepared for the slight shove backward and fell down onto the bed. A gasp of delight escaped as she sucked his cock into her mouth. "Lysa..." He reached for her head and she lightly took hold of his hands and put them down on the bed while beginning to deep throat him.

In seconds he was thrusting up into her mouth, far beyond control, hands clenching the blankets. She lifted her head and he sobbed with the loss.

"Ty, look at me." She moved up so he could see her face without lifting his head. "I'm going to do something I haven't done with you yet. Will you trust me?"

He nodded. "What is it?"

"If you still want me to explain later, I will. Right now, I need you to trust me. Ok?"

"Yes."

"Then put your hands under your head and keep them there, no matter what. Ok?"

He nodded slowly.

"Now, I want you to drink." She used her fang to slash her wrist and held it to his mouth. "Drink until I tell you to stop." After seven swallows, she said, "One more and then that's enough. Ty," she licked the bleeding cut several times, "I promise it won't hurt. It's just a bit out of the ordinary and if you decide you don't like it, I won't do it again."

"Lysa?" He raised his head to look at her more closely.

"Relax. I promise, no pain."

With a nod, he set his head down and slid his hands underneath. "Ok."

The bond between them widened and he felt her love wash over him. Closing his eyes, he felt her kiss her way down to his groin, taking him back into her mouth and start working to restore him to incandescent hardness.

She waited until he was completely lost in the rhythm before pinning his hips to the bed and letting him fall from her mouth. It took only seconds to find the right spot and she kissed the inside of his thigh twice before sinking her fangs into his flesh. He twisted, crying out softly, fingers digging into the bed.

His groin erupted in fire, delicious fire that built and built until he felt himself exploding.

Releasing her hold on his hips, she lifted her head, licking her lips. Kissing the spot again, she licked her way up to his still spraying cock and sucked it into her mouth, enjoying the taste of his essence. Once he ceased pumping semen forth, she started licking up what was on his chest and abdomen, knowing it would be several minutes before he recovered.

Opening his eyes, McQueen sighed. "That was extremely enjoyable, Lysa. Let me guess. It short circuited the system."

"Yes. Glad you enjoyed it. Is it a keeper?" She sat up on his thighs, having been lightly sucking on his cock, keeping it hard.

"I think so. Now what?"

"On your side, love." His eyes, already brilliant sapphires, darkened with a desire so intense she leaned forward to kiss him. "Yes, love. Time for your navel. I'll give you your massage afterward while you sleep."

He rolled onto his side and felt her cuddle up against his back, her leg curling over the top of his, her arms gently wrapped around his chest, ready to pin his arms if necessary. "Ready when you are." Tilting his head forward, he bared his neck navel to her, exposing himself voluntarily.

Before starting, she ran her hand down his body, feeling his muscles quiver with anticipation. "You're really looking forward to this, aren't you?"

"So help me, but yes." He couldn't keep the desire from his voice. "Please, Lysa."

"Don't worry. I'll do it."

Her breathing on his exposed navel sent shivers down his spine and he moaned softly. A gentle tongue washing and he panted in her arms as fire raced through his body, head to toes. Over the top her tongue went, sending the fire straight to his groin where he felt his cock harden further. Her mouth covered it and she breathed through her nose, the mere act making him buck as the fire seared its way behind his eyes into his brain. The softest of sucks and he groaned, the fire searing his entire body. The warmth of her tongue dipping into his navel sparked an ignition in his body he knew would not go out until his soul fled his puny mortal body temporarily. All thoughts fled before another tongue dip and he fell into the consuming fire his body became.

The raging inferno that engulfed his body would lessen from time to time and he would be vaguely aware that he was struggling to breathe. Before rational thought could even start to return, the delicious fire would flare up, dragging him down until it was all that existed until the next attempt to breathe. He couldn't feel her legs around his or that her arms pinned his arms to his laboring chest. Existence became the fire, the inferno, the nova building up to explosion. Lust and dread warred with one another over the thought of the impending explosion. Dread for it meant that the divine fire consuming his body would end. Lust for the resultant glimpse of the universe beyond mortal sight even though it would be forgotten before he woke.

His body tautened as the nova finally released its energy and he spiraled outward, unaware of how his body thrashed and struggled in his loves' arms. The universe bared its wonders to him for a long second before darkness overtook his soul.

Holding him until his body merely twitched violently, Silver breathed in the scent of her mate. She rolled him onto his back gently and fetched a towel plus a wet washcloth from the bathroom. After cleaning the bed, she set the towel over the wet spot and set about cleaning him up. He continued to twitch as she maneuvered him onto his stomach, but she started lightly working on his body, seeking out muscle knots, using his extremely relaxed state to her advantage.

Tremors still ran through his arms and legs occasionally when his eyes opened. He moaned softly.

"Here's some water, love. Then back to sleep with you." She held a water bottle to his mouth, watching as he drank, taking it away before he drank too much in one go.

"But-" he tried to protest.

"No. You need to sleep now. I'm going to be right here. Want a bit more water?"

"Yes." He reached up and tried to hold the bottle, grimacing when his fingers refused to close around it. "Damn. I keep forgetting that part."

"Tonight, you're just going to go back to sleep." She stroked his hair as he drank some more. Setting the bottle on the night stand, she smiled. "Enjoy the trip?"

"Yes." His eyelids felt as though they were made of lead. They closed and he sighed in defeat. He felt her snuggle up against his side and smiled, lifting a leadened arm and setting it over her. "Good night, wife."

"Good night, husband."


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter Eight - 2 Souls Bound Page 21

Disclaimer: The names of all 'Space: Above and Beyond' characters contained herein are the property of Glen Morgan and James Wong, Hard Eight Productions and the Fox Broadcasting Network. These names have been used without their permission. All else is my own creation.

Rating: NC17 Language, violence and graphic sex.

Spoilers: None

Warning: Sex, Language.

Author: Vasalysa, with many undying thanks to Geek.

E-Mail: 

2 Souls Bound

Chapter Eight

The jacuzzi felt wonderful, McQueen thought as he stretched out along the bench, leaving only his head above water. A good thing there were multiple hot tubs available, he chuckled, seeing that over half of the two squads were in the jacuzzies and the other half were in the swimming pool.

Coming up from the bottom of the jacuzzi, Silver bounced on her toes. "You look content."

"We had a good day, I think."

"Yes." She sat down near his head. "I think you're right."

Her hand slid around his neck and rested on his chest. Covering it with his own hand, McQueen closed his eyes and thought about the day. Griffon had been declared an impartial observer and referee which none of the squad members had argued with at the time. Both squads had been dropped off at the lower end of the valley to make their way up to the base camp, Griffon taking over piloting the air car and taking Wang with him. Double timing it to the base, McQueen had enjoyed the fact he could manage it so effortlessly even over such rough terrain.

The games themselves were straight forward to begin with, simple capture the flag or last man standing. Then came the rescue the POWs. In order to keep the teams equal, up to two members of the 5-8 were either designated POWs, casualties, or referees. For one game, three from the 5-8 and a member of the 1-38 were also pulled from the active list. The day had started at 0900 and at 1300, lunch was flown in by aircar by the base kitchen staff, courtesy of the head cook, and promptly devoured. An hour of relaxation followed before it was back to the games. Due to doing two games in the dark, they had made it back an hour after dinner had ceased to be served on base, so all three colonels bought dinner at a local restaurant after everyone showered.

He glanced at the clock. 2000. "I think we've been here long enough. I'm turning into a prune."

"Well, a prune is better than a raisin," chuckled Silver. "Bigger is better."

"I think I'll stay away from that one." McQueen grinned. "Come on. We've been here over an hour. My back feels a lot better and so do my knees." He stood up and stepped out.

"Sounds good to me."

In the locker room as they stripped off their swim suits, he asked her, "When did Grif and Terrilli sneak off?"

"About thirty mikes ago."

"I hope Grif can help Terrilli." He headed for the showers, swim trunks in hand, and barely avoided her swat. "What did you do that for?" he asked, grinning.

"Because you're irresistible." Grabbing her swim suit, she tailed him all the way to the shower, rubbing up against him when he stopped to turn one on. "What some help washing up?"

"Someone will walk in on us, love."

"You didn't care in the meadow."

"That was different. I knew everyone who could have seen us. There are people out there who know who I am, but I don't know who they are." Wrapping an arm around her waist, he hugged her. "I'm not going to be found fucking my wife in the shower by some private. No thank you."

"Ok." She kissed him. "I won't make it hard to handle, ok? Just a clean up and you can do all the private parts."

Kissing her back, he said, "That I can do."

After a chaste shower, he walked with her back to their quarters, hand in hand. "You know what, I feel like watching a movie."

"Let's do it."

Halfway through the movie, he fell asleep, never feeling her tuck him in.

During the remaining two weeks on Dicte, they arranged for five more war games, two of which were over-nighters. Far from grumbling about losing rare downtime, the squads looked forward to the games as a break from trying to entertain themselves.

When not planning the war games or trying to entertain himself outside of making love to his wife, McQueen studied the information Ross had arranged for him to look over. Current status of ships, planets, bases, stations, and convoys were displayed on a holo-vid and he pored over them, Silver by his side. Nothing definite came to mind, though he found himself concentrating on three different areas: Vestus, the first colony site destroyed by the Chigs; Tellus, the second colony the Chigs hit, and Ixion, a major enemy shipyard, that had cost twenty-five thousand human lives between Deimos and Ixion, to take, which had fallen back in enemy hands only forty days earlier.

The first time he sat down to review the information, Silver stared at the baleful red icon for Ixion and didn't speak for several hours. He didn't push her. She had been down there on Ixion while he had been coordinating the battle from above. They both knew losing it had hurt, especially since only four ships, a battleship, two destroyers and a frigate, of the 11th Earth Force Fleet had survived to reach the wormhole back to friendly country. The Chigs had pumped a huge fleet of Super Hive ships into Ixion, obviously determined to take it back. The 11th Fleet had fought a desperate, losing battle, taking out only two Super Hive ships, though nearly a dozen of the regular Hive ships had died.

Despite the chance to relax, McQueen felt frustrated as the three weeks drew to a close. Neither he, Silver or Ross had come up with any concrete ideas and they had watched the situation worsen. Three more solar systems had returned to Chig control, two of which had only been stations with a small picket force. The 4th Earth Fleet had taken a pounding before escaping the third system, losing over twenty-five percent of its ships and over half of its fighters. The restructured 15th Earth Fleet were scheduled to rendezvous with the Saratoga in the Dicte system the day the refitting was to finish.

At dinner on the nineteenth day, Ross looked past McQueen and Silver at the dinner table. He groaned. "Oh, great. Here comes Johnson and Williams. No doubt to inform me that the refit is going to take another week."

"Commodore, Colonels." Williams rubbed his cut, bruised and scraped hands together. He traded a pleased look with Johnson, whose hands looked just as battered. "Well, commodore, you can start sending folks back to their quarters in the morning. The overhauls on the engines are done, the fighter crafts and ISSAPCs are finished as well, and the major work on the 'Toga is completed. Everything that's left to do can be done on the run, so to speak."

McQueen reached over and closed Ross' mouth which had dropped at the word morning. "Thank you, Williams. How the hell did you manage to exceed even your own estimate?"

"Trade secret. Besides, I'm not in this to make money nor do I care how much I just cost AeroTech or anyone else. We have a war to fight and win. That's all that matters." He grinned. "I took the liberty of 'liberating' all fighter craft and ISSAPC parts on the base. You'll have twelve spare Hammerheads, five Torpedoes, and I think six Spitfires as well. That's all I could get you."

"You are a miracle worker, Williams." McQueen shook his head. "We've been getting a bit worried about the replacement parts. AeroTech has been falling behind on orders."

Stuffing his hands into his pockets, Williams said, "Well, not all the parts are AeroTech, but they're made to the same specs or better. There are some folks back on Earth who still talk to me and I've got the numbers for ordering parts from other parties. I've double checked all the parts I've gotten and they appear to be higher quality that AeroTech's stuff too. So, they may cost a bit more, since they're just starting out, but they deliver as quickly as a transport from Earth to the requesting fleet can get."

Silver and McQueen shared a look. That fit in with some information they had learned from General MacIntyre nearly four months ago on the flight from Earth to the Saratoga. New suppliers were bidding against AeroTech for the military's money and winning in some cases. Supposed terrorists had blown up a few of the new suppliers, but the oddly prepared and comprehensive insurance had taken that sort of action into account and the suppliers had merely started up afresh with backup equipment. Word now trickling to them indicated that AeroTech was finding itself in a bind over some of the military contracts. Not that it helped the men and women who were losing their lives due to lack of parts.

Continuing to speak, Williams said, "I've also arranged for all the hardware and parts that I anticipate needing on the 'Toga to be shipped up tomorrow. The cargo holds will be a bit cramped for a while, but, in the long run, she'll be as good as new in a few months."

A nod and Ross seemed to collect himself. "Thank you, Williams and Johnson. I appreciate the fact that you've actually managed to complete the job with a few days to spare. That means that when the fleet arrives, we'll be able to ship out."

"What time were you planning on manning the bridge?" Williams asked, cracking his knuckles.

"0800." Ross glared at Williams. "Why?"

"Could you make it 0900? I still have a few bridge connections to finish tonight." Rolling his shoulders, Williams grinned. "They should be finished no later than 0800, but I'll want to double check and test them."

Ross nodded slowly. "Very well. 0900."

"Good night then, commodore, colonels. It's back to the salt mines for me." Williams clapped Johnson the shoulder. "Get yourself something to eat, Ed, and hit the sack. I'll see you at 0600."

"Yes, sir." Johnson gave the officers a weary salute and rambled off toward the chow line as Williams trotted away.

"Why do I get the uneasy feeling that Williams is going to crash once we're underway?" muttered Ross.

"Probably because we've all known such human dynamos." Silver sat back in her chair. "People who have the ability to focus so tightly on what they're doing that nothing else will interfere until they've finished their self-appointed task. Then of course, they promptly collapse and are totally useless to anyone until they've recovered."

McQueen rubbed his finger around the rim of his glass. He spoke softly. "I've been known to be that way once in a great while. It's only happened twice. Both times, it was a military solution I was looking for. The first one, well, it was soon after I joined the Corps. My CO found me writing, going over all sorts of information about the AIs. He told me later that he had tried to interrupt me, but I had only shaken him off like a mild irritant. At first, he was upset, but then he realized that I was just so deeply involved that nothing existed for me at that moment except what I was working on. That plan broke open the AI lines of communication and that's when I first came to the AIs' attention. After my plan was used, I fell into the hands of the AIs." He shrugged. "They didn't appreciate the work I'd done."

"It was good work." Silver reached over to squeeze his arm.

"And the second time?" asked Ross, curious.

"I had joined the 127th. Collins was XO at the time. It was the strangest thing. She was briefing us on a night raid we were going to be doing. Something she said, it just clicked and I suddenly saw what needed to be done to break the AIs, if not destroy them, at least drive them off planet. I guess I started writing. She thought at first that I was being overly exuberant in my note taking until she tried to get my attention. They tried all sorts of ways of getting my attention. Someone actually slugged me, no one ever admitted it, but I had a lovely bruised knuckle pattern along my cheek. Colonel Michaelson arrived and saved me from a real beating. He told me that I worked for twelve straight hours, with him at my side for most of it. He watched what I was writing and figured out things I needed and arranged for them. I slept for eight straight hours and ate enough for three men when I woke up." McQueen shook his head. "I haven't felt the urge to do that in a long time."

"So you're the one who came up with Operation Cat's Cradle." Silver shook her head.

"The name was not my idea."

"Fortunately, we were able to pull it off. It required a lot of timing or we'd have been slaughtered by the AIs. Somehow, all fifty units scattered around the planet managed it." She smiled. "Even though we didn't destroy the AIs, it still drove them off Earth. I'd rather be fighting them out here, where we don't have so many civvies to worry about, then back home where every family is a potential hostage situation."

"I agree." Ross sighed. "Ty, no wonder generals come to you. Those two plans alone broke a war that had been raging for years, shifted the battlefield off planet, saved thousands of lives if not more."

"Glen, I'm getting scared. I think I'm just the right word or image away from doing it again." McQueen gave his long-time friend a pleading look. "Don't let the generals and their like know it or they'll be all over me. It's not something I can control."

"You know I wouldn't let them near you." Ross frowned.

"Glen." Silver shifted her hand to McQueen's and squeezed. "If they find out, you'll be pressured to. As long as he doesn't slip into it on a mission, we should be able to handle it. We'll use the entire squad to provide cover."

"And if I do slide away on a mission?" McQueen shoved his drink away, no longer in the mood for food or drink.

"Then I'll clip you over the head and haul your sorry ass back to the 'Toga." Despite the mock seriousness of her tone, her hand held his tightly and she met his eyes squarely. "We'll protect you, even in the midst of a battle surrounded by Chigs. We would get you out."

"That's exactly what I don't want." He yanked his hand free and stood up quickly, knocking over his chair. Catching it before it hit the floor, he slammed it back on its feet and stalked out.

When Ross started to rise, Silver shook her head. "No, he needs some time alone."

"But it's a gift." Ross stared after McQueen.

"Is it? Think about it, Glen. To be so totally absorbed in something that nothing outside you matters? That's scary. Doubly so for him, don't you think? No matter what it may appear to be like, he's not in control at that time. He needs that control over his life. This gift, this ability, strips that control away."

"Yes. I see." Ross turned his eyes to Silver. "We can't lock him aboard the 'Toga."

"No, and we're not going to treat him any differently."

Chewing his lip, Ross nodded. "That's what's got him running scared right now, isn't it? That we'll start treating him like he's special."

She nodded. "You, me, and the squad are his anchors. He needs us."

"Yes. So are you going to go after him?"

"In a bit. He's running hard right now. I'll let him wear himself out."

"Damn, but I wish I had that ability sometimes." Ross shook his head.

"With more practice, he'll be able to tell such things about me. He's too wrapped up in his worry right now for me to let him feel my love. I'll go track him down once he's calmed enough to start thinking rationally again. I suspect it'll be morning before you see him again." With a slight smile, she stood up. "Breakfast?"

"Yes. 0630. I'll inform folks after breakfast. Tell Ty I'd like him to be ready to go by 0800. I think I want the three of us on board a bit earlier."

"And check out what Williams has done to your bridge?" Grinning, Silver nodded. "Ok, in the morning then. Night."

"Night."

Through the darkness, Silver walked east, grateful he hadn't headed north, back toward the memorial. Occasionally breaking into a jog, she just followed the tug of the bond. Taking her time, it took her almost thirty minutes to reach his position, sitting on a large boulder, hunched into a ball, arms wrapped around his legs. She didn't speak as she climbed up behind him and slid her arms around his waist and rested her chin on his shoulder. After a moment, he leaned back into her with a sigh.

"Do you think I'm being foolish?"

"No, Ty. You have every right to be afraid."

"I don't want this... this gift as Glen called it."

Closing her eyes, she took several deep breathes before saying, "It's a talent you have no control over. That is bound to be scary. We'll deal with it... if it happens. Until then, we continue living our lives, not letting fear rule us."

"Right," he said, dryly. "You're not the one feeling it grow inside."

"Do you want me to help you try to control it?"

He inhaled sharply, held it for several seconds, and then exhaled slowly. "No. I'll deal with it." Leaning his head back on her shoulder, he loosened his tight hold on his legs. "What would I do without you?"

"Be lonely in a lonely, cold bed." She blew softly in his ear. "You're not alone anymore, Ty. You have support to get through the tough times."

"I'm not used to it, Lysa."

Nuzzling his cheek, she said, "I know. We don't expect you to embrace asking for help cheerfully. But we want you to know that we are here. We won't run away on you." He turned in her arms, burying his face in her shoulder and she felt tears soaking her uniform. Stroking his head, she gently rocked him back and forth. "It's ok, Ty."

After a couple of minutes, she let him push away. "Feel better?"

"Some." He started to wipe the tears away as if ashamed of them.

Stopping his hand, she said, "Ty, don't be ashamed of crying. No matter how the myth goes, it_ is_ ok to cry from time to time. It helps relieve stress."

"I prefer to do it in private," he admitted.

"Ty," she sighed.

"You and Glen are the only ones who've ever seen me really cry."

Saying nothing, she merely started massaging his shoulders. He fell silent, turning around and facing away from her. When she finished, he settled back against her, sighing. "I'm sorry if I worry you."

"The only time you worry me is when you take off like this." She shook him slightly. "It's not too bad if you're on the 'Toga, but down here, you have a whole bloody planet to hide in." She slid her hands back down to his chest and hugged him.

"So you just want me to do it while on the 'Toga?" He managed a note of humor.

"Well, I don't have to worry about being rained on there. Like we're about to be." Overhead, dark clouds blocked out the stars and the two moons. "It took me nearly thirty mikes to get to you. We're going to be soaked by the time we get back. It's supposed to rain all night."

"Great." He slid down off the boulder and held up a hand to aid her down. "We might as well get going then."

As her feet hit the ground, the first sprinkles started. The sprinkles came heavier and turned into a full blown downpour, soaking their uniforms in only seconds.

They slogged back to the base, avoiding most of the town. Mud caked them to the knees as they entered the base proper and they took their boots off before heading for their quarters. Setting the boots down in the bathroom out of the way, she pushed him toward the shower. "Go on, strip off that soaked flight suit and get in."

He dialed the shower up hot and stepped in. Tilting his head back, he let the water beat against his skull, helping him relax. He sighed softly when he felt Silver's hands run over his chest, leaving a trail of soap behind. Her touch did not arouse, merely cleaned and soothed his frazzled mental nerves. From his head to his toes, he quietly obeyed her gentle tugs on his feet or the light push that brought his head forward so she could shampoo his hair. Her fingers massaged his scalp and he felt muscles relaxing right down to his lower back, helping to drive the worry away.

She rinsed his hair and left his head under the pounding spray for several minutes. "Ok, Ty. Out with you. Go lie down. I'll be out in a mike."

Finished drying off, she glanced into the bedroom and smiled on seeing him stretched out on his stomach across the bed, dozing, his feet dangling over the edge, a pillow he had obviously dragged down from the top of the bed under his head and arms. Sitting on the bed, she slowly ran her hand up his back, stopping to knead muscle knots as she found them. Up to his neck, she avoided his navel and slid her fingers up into his hair and massaged, aware that he was not asleep any more.

"You may be comfortable sleeping that way, but I would prefer to have all of me on the bed." She grinned at him and slapped his buttocks lightly. "Come on, Marine, move your ass."

Up on his hands and knees, he tossed the pillow back up to the head of the bed and turned around so he could lie down again as she dragged the blankets back. "Lysa, why do I feel so tired? It wasn't that hard a run."

"It's the emotional stress, love." Bringing the blankets up over him, she smiled, tucking him in. "Just go to sleep, Ty. Glen wants us at breakfast at 0630 and ready to go up at 0800."

"But..." He frowned, drawing his brows down. "Why so early? Oh, he wants to see what's been done to the bridge."

"That's it exactly." As his frown smoothed out, she snuggled down under the covers, resting her hand on his hip. "Let's get some sleep then."

"Are you sure?" He rubbed her hand.

"Yes. Go to sleep, Ty."

"All right."

She watched him as he slowly drifted to sleep. Stroking his hair, she kissed his cheek and settled down to sleep.

The hustle and bustle of the fifty-nine hundred men and women working to pack up their gear made McQueen wince as he slung his sea-bag over a shoulder. He finished his coffee and set the mug down firmly before he headed for the mess' door. Outside, he hid a smile at the sight of the 5-8 waiting for him. They fell in line behind him, letting him lead the way to the nearest street an aircar could meet them.

Sitting on the hood of the aircar, Silver smiled. "Put your stuff in the trunk, folks." The rear of the aircar popped open. While the younger members obeyed, Silver took his sea-bag, saying quietly, "Glen's inside already. Do you want to drive or shall it?"

"You can drive." He was still acutely aware that she had been deliberately letting him do all the flying.

"Ok."

The trip to the airfield took hardly any time and they were soon piled into the ISSAPC, Silver in the pilot's seat while he took the co-pilot's. Once the pre-flight checks were done and she had lifted them into the air, McQueen shut the cockpit door and switched the intercom to private-send.

"What's the matter, Ty?" Easing the huge craft to port, Silver corrected course to the rendezvous point with the 'Toga.

"Lysa, why have you been letting me do all the flying?" He threw himself back down into the seat, spinning it around to look at her.

"The honest truth, Ty, is that it isn't the freedom for me that it is for you. I'll keep my rating, love, but you... you _need_ to fly." She leaned over to squeeze his knee. "Especially now that you can again. I won't take that away from you."

"Will you fly the next mission?"

"Do you want me to?"

"Yes."

"Then I will. Just let me know when you want to keep Glen company on the bridge and I'll fly." She grinned. "Just no funny business while I'm away."

"As if I would." He leaned back in his chair. "Lysa, I love you and I want to thank you for being there for me."

"I love you too. Being there for each other is what this is all about, love."

"Keep reminding me of it."

"Better switch the com back. We'll be approaching the 'Toga in about three mikes."

"Roger that," he grinned, changing the intercom's channel. "Hello, this is your co-pilot speaking. We wish to thank you for riding on McQueen-Silver Airlines. Make sure that your seats are in an upright position and all trays are returned to their proper places. We will be landing in a bit over two mikes."

Chuckling over his act, Silver maneuvered the ISSAPC toward the landing pad on the Saratoga's upper deck. The landing gear touched the deck with barely a rock and the pad descended. Everything appeared to be running smoothly on automatic and they waited a few minutes before leaving the transport.

In the corridor outside the airlock, Vansen rubbed her arm. "Damn, but it's cold."

"The heaters have been running on low or been off this whole time." Ross grimaced. "No reason to heat the entire ship if there's only a handful of people on her." He suppressed a shiver from the cold. "At least, the lights are on."

McQueen gave the squad a quick look. "Get your gear in your barracks. Turn up the thermostat. Then start familiarizing yourself with any changes. We need to know how to get everywhere."

"Yes, sir." Vansen led the way, Wang trailing along behind, 'Phousse by his side.

"Is it my imagination or has Paul gotten better with walking?" Silver asked McQueen softly.

"He is. Three weeks planet-side involved in the squad's activities seem to have a good effect on his recovery." Hefting his sea-bag, McQueen asked, "Shall we meet you at your quarters, Glen? Give you a chance to turn the heat up in your rooms?"

"Good idea. Fifteen mikes?"

McQueen nodded. "We'll be there."

At first glance, nothing much appeared to be out of place on the bridge. Two consoles were open and a total of five people were working on them, one of whom was Williams.

Ross' hackles rose when he saw which two consoles were still being worked on. Tactical and Helm. "Williams."

"Just a sec, Commodore. Let me finish this connection..." Williams eased the Tactical console back down into its cradle. "Davies, check all the connections and start the diagnostic. I want to start testing in five mikes."

"Yes, sir," answered a balding man who scrambled underneath the console.

"Sorry about the mess, commodore. Someone ran the wrong wiring and we blew out the two consoles. If I didn't know better, I'd say someone was sabotaging the effort." Williams shook his head as he strode over to the Helm console. "If everything runs like it should, Tac will have a few new tricks, including a better resolution on the 3-D LIDAR." The Helm console lay tilted on its side with a man and a woman poking around underneath. He lightly nudged the woman's leg. "Peters, just check the frigging power connection. We don't want to fry another board."

As Peters obeyed, Williams turned to Ross and the two colonels. "Everything will be ready to go by 0900. I finish on time."

"Well, considering that you're already two days early, I won't get upset by a few hours. But I want this bridge fully operational by the time most of the crew is aboard. Also, how long have the heaters been up and running?"

"I ordered the heaters turned up last night. Damn, but it's still cold." Williams stalked over to Environmental Control. "Blast it. I know they were turned on last night. Someone's turned them off again." Savagely, Williams punched the buttons and set the temperature to high. "I'll turn them down in an hour. That should warm the ship up nicely."

"Do you think you have a saboteur on board?" demanded Ross, hands on hips.

"I wouldn't go so far as that," Williams shook his head. "And the personnel have been rotating fairly frequently. Despite the image, I don't run my crew into the ground. It could be any number of things stemming from misunderstandings. Now, if you'll vacate the bridge, we'll get it finished by the deadline."

McQueen gestured toward the doors. "Let him work, Glen."

Before they reached the door, Williams called out, "Commodore, give me a time and place so I can brief you on the changes and improvements."

"1000 hours in my office."

"Good."

As the pressure doors closed behind them, Ross shuddered. "I think something's going on here. And I don't like it."

"Do you think Williams is responsible?" McQueen hit the elevator down button.

"I don't know. I just don't know."

They spent the time until 1000 hours organizing the return of the Saratoga's crew. By 0955, the last set of transports were being loaded on Dicte. The military's reputation for moving large numbers of men and resources remained intact.

In Ross' office, McQueen poured himself a coffee. "That was clever thinking, Glen, to have the galley crews up first. I noticed that they were unloading a lot of supplies."

"Master Sergeant Rollins insisted that he didn't take everything from the base, but he must have come close." Ross grinned held out his coffee mug. "I'm willing to wager that he scavenged every canister of coffee the planet has."

"Just be glad he was willing to let you have some." McQueen refilled the commodore's cup. "He's a good man, but I wouldn't want to get on his bad side."

The expected knock came on the door. "Come," called out Ross.

Williams sauntered in, a computer pad in hand. He tossed the pad onto the desk. "I'm pleased to say that everything I intended to get done, plus a bit more, has been finished. I won't start any new work for a couple of days. That way everyone has a chance to get used to the ship again."

Perching on Ross' desk, Williams continued speaking. "First off, the main engines. We did a complete overhaul of the fusion reactors. They're better than new and will easily last seven years even with abuse. As to the reason you had to come here, it's been solved, permanently. No danger of it occurring again under normal conditions and I include combat in that. The Auxiliary Bridge now has four communication feeds, so you'll never have to worry about losing contact with the rest of the ship again. On the bridge, we installed faster computers and doubled the memory in addition to updating the software. Like I told you already, the 3-D LIDAR now has better detail. The weapons system gained a better program for firing resolutions."

"What about the helm?" Ross frowned.

"We gave the helm a software upgrade and more memory. Why the power hook up was backwards, I don't know. By the way, commodore, you've got a great crew. You've even got cooks who can wield a welder like a regular dock hand and rewire electronics." Williams waved his arm grandly. "With their help, the 'Toga's in great shape. The engineering crews and I should be able to handle all the little stuff left. It's tedious work, rerouting wiring and the like, so it shouldn't interfere with normal operations."

"Sounds like you've done a helluva job." McQueen leaned against the wall, his coffee mug in hand. "How long does an engine overhaul usually take?"

"The book says four weeks. We did it in one and no shortcuts." Williams grinned proudly.

"The full list of repairs and changes are in here?" Ross tapped the computer pad.

"All of them. I'll add updates as we reroute things. There will be minimal interference with day to day running of the ship. I'll give you twelve hours notice on all work to be started."

"That sounds like a reasonable time frame." Ross stood up. "Have you arranged quarters for yourself?"

"I commandeered a set of visitor's quarters. I brought all my gear up last night." Williams yawned and looked sheepish for just a second. "Sorry. I worked through the night."

"Go to bed, man. You're done working for today." Ross made shooing motions and, with a grin, Williams vacated the room. Dropping back into his seat, Ross sighed. "Damn, I really want to hate the man, but I can't, quite. I've left orders that all the crew that were helping engineering do not need to report for duty until tomorrow morning. The 15th Fleet isn't due until 1500, so everyone should be settled in."

A knock sounded on the door and McQueen opened it. Terrilli stood on the other side. "Yes?" McQueen asked quietly.

Terrilli didn't step inside. "McQueen, I thought you'd like to know, we just finished bringing your Hammerheads up. It took us two runs but the 'pits are in the docking bays. You're all ready for your first patrol."

"Thanks, Terrilli. We didn't know our ships were even down there." His mouth turning down in a self-deprecating frown, McQueen said, "Hell, the man even told us that all the Hammerheads had been overhauled and checked down on the planet. I just didn't think he'd had ours flown down. Wonder who he got to do it?"

"Don't know, but they're back up." Terrilli hesitated, then said, "Also, Griffon said to let you know he's staying for a while. He didn't give me a time frame."

"Thank you, Anton." Silver flashed him a brief smile. "Why don't you go get settled in? Your squad is scheduled for a patrol in the morning."

"I will. See you later." Terrilli turned on his heel and left.

Shutting the door, McQueen said, "If Williams had let us know, we could have flown our ships up ourselves."

"And who would have flown Glen?" Silver raised an eyebrow. "The Blue Fairy?"

"Well, one of us could have caught a flight back down to get their ship." McQueen rolled his shoulders.

"Terrilli was good enough to do it for us. It's finished and over with." Twisting a strand of hair around a finger, she asked, "So, who's going to fly the first patrol? You or me?"

McQueen didn't hesitate. "You."

The flat statement made Ross look from one to the other, but nothing appeared to be wrong between his two friends.

"Ok. I'll alert the squad that we're flying in four hours." Silver rose. "See you at dinner, Glen?"

"Sure. I'm curious as to what the galley is going to come up with." Ross watched her walk out, shutting the door behind her, and fixed McQueen with a hard stare. "What gives?"

"Surely you've noticed she hasn't been doing any fights."

"Yes. Hard to miss when she's sitting there on the bridge." Ross steepled his hands, elbows on the desk. "So?"

"Glen, she hasn't flown at all except for the training flights against the 138th. I'm not counting the last time she got in a 'pit. She never got to fly that time." McQueen raked a hand through his hair. "I checked her hours. Starting from the time we brought her back from that hellish planet, simulators were all she'd done."

"I didn't think about it, but you're right. Ok, why?"

"She was letting me feel free. Letting me do what makes me feel good about myself."

It took Ross a moment to ask, "Do you want out of bridge duty, Ty?"

McQueen threw himself down into the seat Silver had vacated. "No, Glen. Not in the least. I enjoy working on the bridge. That's where I get to work on my strategy and tactical skills, and work with you. But I don't _love_ working on the bridge. I _love _flying." He gave his friend a worried glance. "Does that make sense to you?"

"Yes, Ty, it does. So, how often are you going to keep me company?"

"I'm thinking of every other action, could be a patrol, a fight or a ground action, if we're not all on it. I think we need to do more with the entire squad too."

"Meaning you want to go on ground missions more often as well." Ross sighed. "I can't blame you, Ty. You were never one to just sit around. Guess I better start sharpening my strategy and tactical skills if you're going to be doing full squadron actions more." He grinned. "It'll do me good. I've been relying on you and Silver quite a lot lately. I'm starting to feel rusty."

"Can't have that. Boss Ross can't be seen to be the Tin Woodsman before Dorothy finds him." McQueen grinned. "Of course, there's the little question that comes to mind about the Tin Woodsman."

"Oh?"

"Did the Tin Smith that made him a new body make it fully functional?"

"Good God, Ty! It's too damn early for such... such..." Unable to think of a suitable label, Ross groused, "Such philosophical questions." After a pause, he continued with, "Ask me again tonight over a scotch and we'll discuss it."

"You're on. I better get out of here. Later, Glen."

As the door shut behind McQueen, Ross dropped his head into his hands. The things Ty said sometimes. The image of the Tin Woodsman with an anatomically correct body that functioned made him shake his head ruefully. Now, he'd be stuck with it all damn day.

"So, Ty, just what remark about the Tin Woodsman did you make to Glen earlier?" Silver stepped out of her clean flight suit and hung it up. The flight suit she had worn earlier that day, she tossed into the laundry hamper. Their nightly exercise run with the squad had helped familiarize them all with the slight changes made throughout the ship and pointed out that even a couple of weeks of relaxation was enough to make them all a bit out of shape. Ross had joined them in the exercises after the run, saying to McQueen, "Tin Woodsman indeed."

"I merely asked if the Tin Smith had made the Tin Woodsman's body fully functional." He kicked his sweaty flight suit up into the air, caught it and chucked it into the laundry bag before starting to unzip the one he wore.

"Argh!" Silver threw her wadded up socks at him. "Only one thing on your mind."

Gathering up her socks to throw back, he said, "Hey, didn't you ever wonder?"

"No." She shook her head. "Ty, haven't you ever read the books?" Her socks followed the dirty flight suit.

"Of course not." Hanging up the clean flight suit, he shrugged. "Why should I when the movie is available? I'm not into children's' books."

"If you had, you would have seen that the way the Tin Woodsman is shown in the movies is like in the books. No extras." Sliding her hands around his waist, she inhaled the clean, healthy scent of him, the slight odor of sandalwood from his shampoo and the spicy smell of his deodorant. "By the way, have I mentioned that I love the fact you prefer Old Spice?"

"No. Why?" He twisted around and started nibbling on her jaw.

Tilting her head back, she said, "Old Spice is my favorite for guys. Especially the original scent which you use."

"So, when did you notice I use it?" His mouth traveled around to the other side.

"The first morning. While I worked on your shoulders." She ran her hands up to his shoulders and smiled as he started to pull her tank top up. "Guess we didn't run nearly hard enough."

"Oh, we did. And we exercised like demons, driving poor Glen into the mat. But, I never want to be too tired to make love to you." He kissed her.

"Same here."

The following day, the 58th squad was run through simulators and sent on another patrol, along with the 64th and the 138th. They were on the scene when the 15th Fleet made transition into the system.

"15th Fleet, this is Hearts' Queen. Welcome, Bunker Hill and Roosevelt to the Dicte System," Vansen radioed. "Pleased to see you." Then she spotted the battle damage. "Did you run into unfriendlies on the way?"

"Hearts Queen, this is Commodore Diez. Thanks for the welcome. Yes, we did. Just before jumping through the wormhole. Don't know if they'll be chasing us through or not." The man sounded tired.

"Commodore Diez, this is Commodore Ross. Hold your position. Protect the wormhole. We'll be there in thirty mikes. Please send me a report on your damage levels."

"Hearts' Queen, this is Queen Six. The patrol is to return to base. Your Hammerheads need to be reconfigured. Repeat, return to base."

"Roger that, Queen Six. Patrol returning to base." Vansen gave the battered ships before her a last look and said, "You heard the man, folks. Let's go home. We'll be fighting in no time."

"All right!" Hawkes' enthusiasm told them all he was grinning.

Shaking her head, Vansen wheeled her Hammerhead around one hundred and eighty degrees and headed for the Saratoga which was already on the move.

McQueen and Silver stood looking at the display of the Dicte system as Ross stepped up behind them. Ross' voice was grave as he spoke. "The patrol will be landing in five mikes. We've got a problem with the Fleet. Several of the destroyers are in bad shape, especially the Independence and the Burke. They need repairs now. The Burke's life support systems aren't going to hold out through another major battle. The Independence is badly hulled through the front quarter. Everything in the front quarter is dead. The Hamilton lost over half her fighters."

Running his hand over his face, McQueen nodded. "Ok, that's the sort of thing we needed to know. What else?"

"The Bunker Hill is down half her landing bays. Also three of her missile launchers are damaged. The Roosevelt is in better shape, just running low on missiles. She's down a couple of laser batteries also. The battleships, Mississippi and Virginia, barely made the transition; they lost a quarter of their engine power. The California is hulled in several places, but her landing bays are intact as are her weapons systems."

McQueen's face hardened. "All right. Silver, you start sending ISSCVs to Dicte. They're to yank every missile they can lay their hands on and take them to the Roosevelt. Also any life support parts that Williams might have left. Glen, I want to know what kind of forces the Fleet fought and where they were at the point of transition. I'm going to split our forces, leaving the most of our fleet here."

"We're going to go back through the wormhole? Dammit, man, they'll be waiting for us."

"Glen, they'll be expecting a fleet with no real strategy. And we're just going to send enough ships through to draw the Chigs in after us. What we're going to set up here will hopefully take them out. The 'Toga, six destroyers, and three battleships are going to be our bait. The rest are going to set up the ambush, except for the Burke. She's going to Dicte, after she's given the Hamilton her fighters."

"You've got a plan, Ty. Let's set it in motion while you tell me about it."

Less than an hour later, McQueen sat in his Tactical chair, taut with tension. The Saratoga was in transit to the Gamma Persei system and the Chig fleet there. He could only hope that his assumption that the Chigs would not expect the humans to return so swiftly would pan out. The 'Toga was the only ship in their bait that was not damaged and he hoped that she would remain that way.

"Entering the Gamma Persei system," calmly announced Lt. Commander Douglas, the helmsman. "On my mark... mark."

"All fighters, launch." Only long discipline kept McQueen from shouting the words. He spun to face the 3-D display beside him. It fuzzed and blinked several times rapidly before settling down and displaying the solar system and everything in sensor range.

A predator's smile appeared on his face as he saw the three Super Hive ships remained close to the wormhole, well within reach. His fingers danced over his console, sending the necessary information. "To all ships, I'm feeding the coordinates for the first target into the computer. I want a full port salvo from all ships on that target on my mark. Second target will be identified after launch. All helms, after missile launch, roll your ships to enable the starboard launch." He waited five seconds, long enough for every computer to have received and updated its firing resolutions. "Ready, ready, mark."

From the ten ships, thirty nine missiles streaked through space toward their single target. The Earth forces started their rolls to bring up their starboard sides to the enemy. Lasers snapped out from the Super Hive ship, catching and detonating over half their targets. Eighteen missiles still found their target. Even as the surviving missiles of the first salvo were wreaking their havoc on their target, the next missile salvo was launching toward the second Super Hive ship.

"Fighters, prepare to engage. Stay out of the missiles' flight path." McQueen could see the hundreds of small red dots signifying the Chig fighters. Grateful he had switched the fighters armament over to full fighter mode with only a handful of missiles, he turned his attention to the missiles the Chigs were firing at his ships. So far the third Super Hive ship wasn't firing its plasma weapon and he could only hope that he would be able to disable it before it did. "Gunny, any problems with those incoming missiles?"

"Considering that there are damn near a hundred of them, of course not, sir." Gunnery Sergeant Davidson swore at his computer, slamming his hand down on his chair arm, never taking his eyes off his readouts. "I can't stop them all, sir. I don't have enough lasers for the job."

"Do the best you can. Concentrate on the ones headed for the 'Toga." Ross stood behind the gunnery sergeant. "The others will have to fend for themselves."

"Half the missiles are aimed at us, sir." The gunnery sergeant savagely typed into his console and swore again. "Five are going to get through, sir. ECM's not diverting them and the computer's already controlling the laser batteries' targets."

"Very well, five will get through. We'll ride it out." Ross stood, hands clasped behind his back, staring out the view port.

A baleful red ball appeared on the LIDAR and McQueen bit back a groan. The third Super Hive ship had gotten its plasma gun firing before his port missiles batteries were ready to fire. "Incoming plasma bolt from 321, 317, 184. ETA twenty seconds."

Ross' shoulders tightened. "Helm, roll."

The Saratoga bucked as a missile collided with her hull. Ross swore, but he couldn't let the plasma bolt hit the ship anywhere but the keel.

"Yes, sir, rolling ship." Douglas began shifting the belly of the Saratoga up to take the hit.

McQueen swore and changed channels. "Captain Drisdan, what are you doing? Move your destroyer away." On the LIDAR, he could see the Reuben James moving to intercept the plasma bolt. He gripped his console as the Saratoga bucked twice in rapid succession and the gravity fluctuated.

"'Toga Control, this is Lt. Madison. I don't know how many missiles hit us, three or four. The captain's dead, the ship is drifting. I can't control her." The young woman's voice somehow managed to remain steady. "If we take the hit for you, at least you'll have a better chance of survival. Would you... would you tell our families... please?"

"Yes, Lieutenant. You have my word on it." McQueen forced his voice to remain calm even as he rode out the last two missile strikes to the Saratoga.

"Thank you. I..."

Static came over the radio line even as the LIDAR showed the plasma bolt exploding on the crippled Reuben James.

"Helm, resume your previous rotation," stated Ross, releasing his hold on the railing. Only long association allowed McQueen to hear the sorrow in his friend's voice

Steeling his heart and mind from thinking about the hundreds of now dead men and women, McQueen focused on his job. "All ships, report." McQueen hated the way his voice trembled slightly.

"Port missiles ready to fire," announced Davidson.

One by one, the other ships reported readiness. "Fire on my mark. Ready, ready, mark."

Only twenty-three missiles fired from the human ships, aimed at the third Super Hive ship. Even as he ordered the ships to roll again, he watched the missiles incoming from the first two ships. Only sixty-five this time. Unfortunately, forty-six of them were headed for the Saratoga, bearing out his assumption that the Chigs would concentrate on the carrier the second time around.

"Starboard missiles report ready, sir," sang out Davidson.

"Thank you, Gunny." McQueen waited for the other ships to report.

"Excuse me, Colonel, but is there something I can do?"

McQueen nearly jumped out of his seat at the sound of Williams' voice. "What are you doing here?" He turned and saw that Williams had put on a pressure suit, but not the helmet.

"I'm asking if there's something I can do to help. Just tell me what to-"

McQueen snapped his hand up, his attention back on his communications. "All ships fire." As the Saratoga rocked under the pressure of seventeen missiles simultaneously launching, he turned back to Williams. "Damage control. We've got forty-six missiles headed straight for us. Get down to Damage Control and make yourself useful."

"Will do, Colonel." Williams trotted away.

"And put the helmet on," barked McQueen. He saw Williams wave his hand as the doors closed and shook his head, wondering why the hell he was worrying about Williams.

"Four missiles are going to get through," announced Davidson with a snarl.

"Understood." Ross walked over to McQueen's station. "Are we going to be able to make the last starboard salvo?"

McQueen grimaced, listening to the damage reports flooding in from the other ships. "I don't even think we're going to be able to make the port missile launch worthwhile, but I'm going to do it. Then we'll retreat through the wormhole."

Lt. Crowe looked up from his communications console. "Sir, life boats from the Higgins. Some people managed to abandon ship." He grabbed his console as the Saratoga lurched under the impact of two missiles.

Fingers tightening on the back of McQueen's chair, Ross stiffened. "Can we reel them in?"

The situation showed on the LIDAR and McQueen said, "Not without fighter support. Two squads of Chigs are diverting to attack the life boats." The Saratoga rocked violently as the last pair of missiles slammed into her side.

"They're sitting ducks out there. Divert enough fighters... hell, divert them all. They're going to have to land anyway." Strain showed around Ross' mouth.

"Yes, sir." McQueen passed the order on to the fighters and prepared for the firing of the port missiles. "All ships, fire on my mark and head for the wormhole." As he checked his targeting, he managed a faint grin at the fact that the first Super Hive ship was retreating, but was still in missile range. After sending the targeting solution to the other ships and waiting ten seconds for each computer to make the necessary adjustments, he said, "Ready, ready, mark."

Sixteen missiles sped away toward the first Super Hive ship and his predator's grin returned. Now to draw the last two after his mangled mini-fleet. "Lt. Crowe, how are we doing on retrieval?"

"Two life boats to go, sir. About ninety seconds." Crowe looked up at McQueen, worry in his eyes.

"Saratoga fighters, protect those life boats. All other fighters, return to base." Seeing the relief in Crowe's eyes made McQueen nod. He wasn't about to abandon the helpless personnel in those lifeboats unless absolutely necessary. "All ships, head for the wormhole as soon as your fighters are aboard."

Of the several hundred fighters he had ordered deployed at the start of the fight, just over half were returning. McQueen closed his eyes briefly, aware that his plan had killed those pilots.

Opening his eyes, McQueen watched the LIDAR, seeing the first battleship jockeying for the correct angle to enter the wormhole and the next in line position itself. The LIDAR lit up the shower of missiles unleashed by all three of the Super Hive ships. Some, he knew, would run out of maneuvering power before reaching their targets, but that would leave them as hazards to the remaining ships. Too many more would find their targets.

"Sixty-two missiles," Davidson intoned, his fingers flying over his console.

McQueen and Ross shared a knowing look. The Saratoga would be the target of the majority of the missiles. With a wry grin, McQueen said, "Guess we'll be putting Williams' work to the test. The hard way."

"Definitely. I don't think this is what he had envisioned for combat." Ross gave himself a shake and asked, "How long until we can jump?"

"Five mikes."

"Damn," Ross said softly, closing his eyes. "It's going to be a long five mikes."

"Forty-three headed for the 'Toga, sir," Davidson grated out. "If we don't get out of here in four mikes, the computer estimates at least seven will find us."

"It estimates?" Ross turned to the gunnery sergeant in amazement.

"Yes, sir. Some of the missiles that lose their initial target will most likely turn on us. The computer can't calculate how many since we don't know how smart the Chig missiles are."

"Guess we're going to find out. Do your best, Gunny."

"Yes, sir."

The battleships took ninety seconds to enter the wormhole one by one. As the first of the destroyers maneuvered to enter, McQueen made an insane decision. He knew that the ships had to enter the wormhole at the right speed and angle or get smeared across the cosmos. He activated the radio to all the ships. "Captains, this is McQueen. Red-line your engines for one mike on my mark. Ready-"

"Ty, what the hell-" Ross stared at his friend.

Covering his mike, McQueen snapped, "Helm, prepare to red-line on my second mark." Even as Douglas answered, "Yes, sir," McQueen continued. "Ready, mark."

On the LIDAR, four of the destroyers appeared to leap forward. McQueen knew he was risking losing the destroyers, but they had to get through the wormhole before the Chigs. He turned to the helm. "Ready... ready... mark."

The sudden increase in speed temporarily overcame the inertial compensator and everyone on their feet staggered before the gravity returned to normal.

"Maintain speed for another seventy-five seconds." McQueen hoped his mental calculations were right. They couldn't enter the wormhole too close to the trailing destroyer.

"Ty, do you know what you're doing?" Ross struggled to speak calmly.

"Getting us the hell out of here... I hope." He watched the cloud of missiles on the LIDAR. Some were being destroyed by the Saratoga's laser batteries, but far too many remained. The missiles gave the appearance of slowing and he knew that they could still catch the carrier if they had to delay entering the wormhole. Only three destroyers remained to jump.

"Come on, come on," he muttered.

The third disappeared, followed quickly by the fourth. Only the slowest one remained.

"Seventy-five seconds," Douglas stated as the 'Toga slowed to her cruising speed.

Resisting the urge to hit his console in defeat, McQueen slumped back into his chair. The last destroyer was still ten seconds from jumping. The missiles were forty-five seconds behind the Saratoga and they couldn't jump for another fifty seconds. Too many missiles remained for the laser batteries to destroy.

"Sorry, Glen. I had hoped to get us through before they caught up to us." He slung his headset onto the console and scrubbed his face.

Lt. Crowe snapped his head up, listening to his headset. "Sir, Colonel, it's Williams. He says to red-line the engines again, all the way to the wormhole."

"Is he insane?"

McQueen didn't know who asked the question. "It's too close."

"He says two seconds before the jump, cut the engines for five seconds, then go in. He says its the only chance we've got."

For nearly ten seconds, McQueen hesitated, unsure whether to trust Williams' judgement, but he knew the man would have the best idea of what the ship was capable of withstanding. It was just a matter of what the flesh and blood components of the ship could survive. As he felt the deck beneath his feet shudder with more plasma hits, McQueen knew he had to take the chance. Straightening, he snapped, "Helm, you heard the man. Do it."


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter Nine - 2 Souls Bound Page 16

Disclaimer: The names of all 'Space: Above and Beyond' characters contained herein are the property of Glen Morgan and James Wong, Hard Eight Productions and the Fox Broadcasting Network. These names have been used without their permission. All else is my own creation.

Rating: NC17 Language, violence and graphic sex.

Spoilers: None

Warning: Sex, Language.

Author: Vasalysa, with many undying thanks to Geek.

E-Mail: 

2 Souls Bound

Chapter Nine

Her fingers drumming on the arm of her cockpit seat, Silver listened to the radio's chatter. "Where the hell are they?" she muttered to herself. Through the bond, she had felt her husband's fear, sorrow, worry, desperation, defeat and hope. Now all she could feel was that he was alive.

"The Hamilton's through!" yelled someone into the radio chatter. The New York, having come through the wormhole first, had informed the Bunker Hill that the Hamilton had lost two of her engines.

"That means the 'Toga'll be coming through!" Hawkes' worry came over the fighters' radios.

"Cut the chatter," ordered Vansen.

Counting to herself, Silver waited, wishing she was on the bridge, but Commodore Diez did not want an unknown officer attempting to work with his bridge crew. She had reached twenty when the call came.

"All fighters, launch!"

"Roger, B'Hill. Diamond Queen to Wildcards. You heard the man. Launch." Silver released the brake and hit the afterburners.

Even as she wheeled her Hammerhead around under the belly of the Bunker Hill toward the wormhole with the rest of the squad taking their assigned positions, she felt McQueen's relief even as she spotted the Saratoga vacating the vicinity of the wormhole.

"Ok, people, let's go protect the Saratoga." Vansen continued almost hesitantly as if realizing that Silver should have been giving the orders. "Colonel?"

"You're honcho, Captain. I'll butt in when I need to. Russ, stay on my wing."

"Yes, ma'am." Russell's voice came across strong.

"And folks, he's all right." Silver grinned on hearing their sighs of relief.

"Wildcards, this is Torch. Ready on your left wing." Steady and calm came Terrilli's voice.

Glancing to her left, Silver spotted the 138th lining up off 'Phousse's wing. Even as Colonel Ramsey announced that the 64th had settled into place off Hawkes' right side, she turned her gaze forward to study the Saratoga. The carrier was headed for the opening between two battleships. She frowned as she saw the damage inflicted in just that short sortie.

"She's all beat up again," Hawkes complained.

"What did you expect?" West snapped. "She went up against three Super Hive ships."

"Saratoga fighters, this is Queen Six. Two Super Hive ships will be coming through the wormhole in a few mikes. Make sure you are not in the line of fire of our missiles."

"Roger, Queen Six." Vansen ordered, "Ok, everyone, down under the 'Toga."

Missiles were launched from the ships furthest away from the wormhole, followed a moment later by those nearest. Clearly it was better to waste a few than not have them in flight.

Minutes later, the first of the Super Hive ships appeared at the wormhole, disgorging fighters even as it started rocking under the missiles. The second Super Hive ship slid into view, launching its own fighters.

"Fighters, engage." McQueen's voice sounded strained.

Four hours later, the Earth forces returned to the Gamma Persei system. Fighters immediately launched to battle the Chig fighters while the larger ships dueled with the remaining Hive ships and bombers.

Wearily, McQueen leaned forward over his console, hands on the side of his head, kneading the muscles giving him a tension headache. He let the headset drop to the console and closed his eyes, seeking to center himself, to block the pain. A soft sigh escaped him as he managed to block the pain for the moment. Raising his eyes to look at the LIDAR, he grimaced on seeing that the Chigs were reaching the other wormhole. Granted only a quarter of them were, but it galled him. One of the five ships was a transport ship, loaded with troops that were to have landed on Dicte, he knew. None of his own ships were in a position to stop the fleeing Chigs, too busy struggling to destroy the enemy ships.

Soft, exhausted steps behind him and a hand settled on his shoulder. "Thank God, the 'Toga was finished early."

A chill went through McQueen at the thought of the Saratoga having been repaired but without her crew on board yet. "I'll second that."

Ross leaned against the console. "What got away?"

"A transport, four Hive ships." Scrubbing his face, hoping it would help some alertness return, McQueen said, "Nothing we could do about it."

"I know. It just irks me that we couldn't get them."

"What really worries me is that they knew we were here and came obviously prepared to fight the Fleet." Even to his ears, McQueen sounded tired, worn down. "We lucked out. Somehow the Chigs found out the Fleet was coming here and that the 'Toga was being repaired. Obviously, whoever leaked the information didn't give them every detail, but enough, more than enough. The 15th Fleet would have been annihilated in Dicte's system and only the fact that we would have ceased communicating would have alerted the rest of the Earth forces. But that might have been too late. Who knows how many ships and troops the Chigs were prepared to move into these two systems?"

"But they didn't, Ty. We beat them. By the skin of our teeth, we beat them back. We still hold these two systems."

"For how long, Glen?" He couldn't even look his friend in the face. "We need a major victory against a Chig held system, soon. Our troops are starting to suffer from combat fatigue and making mistakes, costly mistakes. The replacements aren't receiving the kind of training they need to survive this. We're losing personnel from lack of training. This is not the way to fight a war, especially this war. Mistakes out here are too damned costly." He knew he was exhausted; that was why he was venting his worries on the bridge.

"Ty, it's not something we can do anything about right now."

"I know." McQueen shook his head. "Right now, I better get my act together and see about giving the Chigs we have left a not-so-fond farewell."

The hand on his shoulder squeezed once. "Then we'll eat and sleep."

Feeling like something the proverbial cat dragged in, McQueen waited in the 58th's briefing room. The sight of the cockpits rising into view brought only a bare, exhausted quirk of a smile to his eyes and mouth. Once all eight cockpits were up, the crews moved in, opening the canopies that the exhausted pilots didn't. Silver, Hawkes, Russell, Finch, and St. John all managed to open their canopies and handed their helmets gratefully to the crews. The other three didn't move as the canopies were raised, their heads tilted to the sides. Exhaustion so deep they'd fallen asleep during the ten second trip from their Hammerheads had them.

Even as he entered, albeit at a much slower pace than normal, Silver was clambering out of her cockpit. "Hawkes, Russell, Finch, St. John, help them to the barracks."

So tired were the four that they merely nodded an acknowledgment to her and stumbled over to the three sleepers. The crews backed away, leaving plenty of room.

Catching her as she stumbled, McQueen murmured, "How about if I lean on you and you lean on me? Maybe that way we'll get to our quarters."

"Good idea."

An arm wrapped around each other's waists, the two colonels worked their way to the elevator and leaned against the moving wall. Together they staggered down the corridor to the door. It took Silver two tries to unlock the door. Inside she steered McQueen to the bed and pushed him down.

"Boots," she said, going around to the other side of the bed..

With a groan, McQueen lifted his foot and struggled with the laces. He let the boot fall to the floor and bent over to undo the other boot. He sank back onto the bed, reveling in the fact he was lying down.

Silver looked over, about to suggest that they strip off their flight suits and smiled tiredly at the fact he was already asleep. She snuggled into his side and closed her eyes.

Muffling a groan in the pillow, McQueen rolled onto his side and reached over to the far side of the bed. Finding no warm body there, he cracked open his eyes and saw the light in the bathroom. It took him a long moment to gather the energy to get to his feet and he felt every second of his nearly twenty-five years of life as he shuffled into the bathroom. Steam billowed out as he opened the door and he blinked before entering.

"Lysa, do leave some hot water for some of the rest of us." He started to strip off his flight suit.

"Well, hurry up, lazy bones."

He stepped into the shower and moved under the hot, stinging spray when she shifted out of the way. "Oh, that feels good." The water sluiced down his front for several long seconds before he turned around, facing her. "Been awake long?"

"No. Ten mikes or so." She started shampooing her hair. "I'm starved. Hope the mess has something good to eat."

"And coffee. Don't forget the coffee." He ducked his head under the water.

"Of course not, love."

By the time they got out, both of them were ravenous.

They found the Officers' Mess crowded on entering. Giving the long line a quick look, McQueen asked, "The Tunn?"

"I don't know about you, but I want something approximating real food." She stepped up to the line. "And I want lots of it."

Joining her, he admitted, "So do I. I just don't want to wait."

By the time they had plates heaped with food, for Master Sergeant Rollins had insured that they could have all they wanted, the crowd had thinned out enough that they could snag a table for themselves. They started eating steadily.

A moment later, McQueen spotted Ross entering and stepping into line. "Glen's here."

"Ok."

"Ty, Lysa, may I join you?"

"Of course, Glen. Pull up a chair." McQueen started on the last quarter of his food, noticing that Silver was keeping up with him.

For several minutes, silence reigned as Ross satisfied his first pangs of hunger. "I've some news. Lt. Crowe rousted his team about three hours ago and gathered up the damage reports from the various ships. He sent it to HQ along with the fact that the Chigs appeared to have been prepared to take Dicte. Even before HQ could have received it, a message came in, warning us about a Chig fleet headed in this general direction. They are aware that there is a leak somewhere and advise us to go over our communications records."

"How long does Crowe think before we get a reply?" asked McQueen.

"Sometime tomorrow. He figures that the news he sent will surprise them and they'll have to consider some things, like sending tenders here to help repair the ships and new personnel. That will take a bit of time." Ross ate some more.

Finished eating, McQueen pushed his plate away, feeling comfortably full. He knew his body would metabolize it quickly after over twenty-four hours of not eating. During the previous protracted battle, it had been decided safer to leave the galley closed. "I think I could go back to sleep for another six hours."

Ross nodded once. "Might not be a bad idea, Ty. There won't be a lot of time to rest once we start repairs. In fact, the lower decks are already being repaired, by Williams and his handpicked engineers. Don't forget to thank him for that insane suggestion."

McQueen grinned. "Hell, it got us out of there alive and in one piece, mostly. We didn't get smeared across the universe."

"And what insane suggestion are you referring to?" Silver popped her last bite into her mouth.

"Redlining the engines until two seconds before the wormhole, holding position for five seconds and then gunning it." McQueen shuddered. "It was that or get the stuffing knocked out of us by nearly fifty missiles."

"I'd have taken the chance too."

"Anyway, I'm allowing everyone to relax for the next twenty-four hours, except for those unfortunate souls that Williams is dragging around with him." Ross grimaced. "To be honest, he is only working on the systems that are critical and he said he would slack off once the absolutely necessary repairs were finished. He's aware that he and his crews are still tired."

"The last thing we need is him running people into the ground." McQueen rubbed his jaw and barely managed to conceal a yawn.

Ross quirked a small smile. "Go back to bed, Ty. I'm headed there myself in an hour. I have a couple of things I want to check out in the Fleet and then it's back to the sack for me."

"Make sure that you do, Glen." Silver reached over and patted his arm. "Now, finish your food and don't take too long before getting to bed. We better go let the squad know they don't need to drag their tails out of bed."

Twenty minutes later, McQueen opened the door for his wife, giving her a pleased smile.

"And what is that smile for?" She entered their quarters.

"Just glad to be taking you back to bed."

She chuckled and waited until he had locked the closed door behind him before sliding her hands up his chest. "This kind of back to bed?"

"Definitely." He kissed her soundly.

Snuggled against Silver, McQueen closed his eyes, smiling, content with the universe at the moment. Their lovemaking had been slow and thoroughly enjoyable, ending with her drinking from him and his taking her blood in exchange. He felt truly satisfied and couldn't think of anything that would make his life more complete at the moment.

A week later, the 15th Fleet appeared to have tripled in size. Only half of the extra ships were ships of the 4th Supply, Repair and Logistical Battalion Fleet. The 12th Fleet had moved in to help defend the two systems and the badly injured 15th Fleet. Among the items that the 4th Supply Fleet had brought were replacement personnel.

McQueen waited outside a docking bay, arms folded, as he stared into the room. Cockpits were popping into view and he wondered about the 79th Squadron, the Black Cats. No one he'd talked to knew anything about the squadron, but the 'Toga had lost five squadrons in the last fight. They had combined the remaining members of the five into the more prestigious of the lost squadrons. Four new squadrons had been sent with the 4th Supply Fleet and the 79th was the last one to arrive on board the 'Toga.

A lot of people had lost their lives or been wounded badly enough to require transport back to Earth, including some of the cooks. Fortunately, Master Sergeant Rollins remained alive and kicking, working his crew, new and old, hard to keep the Saratoga's personnel fed.

In the docking bay, the crews were scurrying around the new cockpits, checking the necessary hoses and insuring that everything was as it should be. As a total of eight men and women were leaving their cockpits and McQueen's eyes were drawn to one. Without even looking at the insignia, he knew this was the squadron leader. A sense of power, of confidence, radiated off the man. In McQueen's opinion, the shoulder length ponytail of rich, chocolate hair should have been left to frame the square, blunt features and mask the overly large ears, but somehow the man managed to look every inch the leader.

"Oh, my, look at him," breathed Silver, now beside him. She watched the group head for the now open doorway. "Shall we go greet the newest members of our fighting force?"

"Definitely a good idea."

The 79th's leader turned out to be almost as tall as himself, McQueen noted as they exited the briefing room. On spotting him, the man snapped to attention and his unit quickly followed suit. Returning the salute, McQueen saw the blue eyes staring back at him were filled with what appeared to be pleasure.

"Major Williamson, 79th Squadron, sir." The voice rolled along tenor lines.

"Colonel McQueen." McQueen nodded to Silver. "Colonel Silver, 58th Squadron. How was the flight?"

"Well, sir, the in-flight movie sucked, but other than that, nothing to complain about."

That was a definite twinkle in the man's eyes. McQueen resisted the urge to shake his head. He held out the computer pad he'd been carrying. "This has all the information you should need for the next several days. With all the new personnel coming aboard, we've just taken to handing out the information."

"I understand, sir. When do we begin our duties?"

"You're scheduled for the second shift. Despite the fact that we have two extra fleets, we're maintaining normal patrol schedules."

"Very good, sir."

"Dismissed."

As the 79th trotted away, McQueen wondered why he felt an intense dislike of the smiling, cheerful Williamson once he'd come face to face with him.

Savagely, McQueen shoved the computer pad away, nearly sending it over the far edge of the desk. He rose, stalking around the briefing room, ignoring the holo-vid of the current war. From one end of the room to the other, he stalked, his mind churning, seeking to find the answer to the puzzle of how to push the Chigs back, how to give the humans a solid victory against the enemy.

"Ty... Ty... TY!"

Silver's bellow penetrated his intense concentration and he jerked to a stop, his head snapping up to find her in the doorway, arms crossed. A wry smile touched her lips and she shook her head sadly. "You're supposed to be in the gym, with the squad. It's time for your workout. Remember?"

A glance at his watch and he blinked, surprised to see he had been immersed in his study for nearly three hours. "Just let me gather this all up and-" He started to move toward the desk.

"Go on, get yourself moving. I'll take it to your quarters."

"Thanks, Lysa." He stepped up and kissed her on the cheek before ducking past.

She watched him jog down the corridor with troubled eyes. His mind for the last two weeks had been wrapped up in trying to come up with some sort of plan and it was becoming increasingly more difficult to divert his attention elsewhere, even in the bedroom. He was quite attentive, once she got his attention, but the effort of getting him distracted from his thoughts was fast becoming a chore rather than something to be enjoyed. With a sigh, she closed the door and locked it before beginning the task of gathering up his odds and ends.

All of the items were in his quarters and Silver returned to the gym to find Ross there watching Hawkes pin McQueen to the mat.

In a low voice, Ross said, "That's Hawkes' third pin. What the hell is McQueen thinking about? His mind is clearly not here. It's a good thing it's five falls."

"He's trying to come up with some sort of a plan against the Chigs."

At the dryness of her tone, Ross glanced at her. "Is there a problem?"

"Nothing that forty to fifty mikes of getting his attention won't solve."

Ross' gaze narrowed. "He's neglecting you?"

She shrugged. "Not exactly. It's more a case of his not paying attention. It's tough to stay in a passionate mood when it takes nearly an hour to get his upper brain to disengage enough to allow his lower brain to take over."

"Is he aware of this?"

"Of course not. I'm too damned understanding." She stared at her husband as he snapped into action. "There, his brain's no longer engaged in thinking."

Hawkes thudded against the mat with an 'oof' and McQueen backed away, breathing hard.

Playing referee, West called the score, "Three to one."

Silver sighed as the two men resumed wrestling. Her husband's mind clearly had focused on the task at hand, for he soon tied Hawkes. The younger Invitro managed to get one more fall and then McQueen pinned him to the floor.

As they moved into the final bout, she leaned against the wall and eased open the link between them. His enjoyment of a good, hard wrestling match made her smile softly. For the moment, at least, his drive to work was subdued. Now if it would only last until she got him to bed. She doubted that it would. They still had dinner and the run with its workout afterward.

Part of what made it worse was the fact that she was getting as little sleep as he was. His brain worked itself into exhaustion before allowing him to sleep. The frustration he felt leaked through the link and he tended to become restless when trying to sleep. Which meant that she didn't sleep either, nor was she always successful these days in diverting his attention.

Hawkes hit the mat hard under McQueen and Silver quirked her lips. Soon McQueen would be hard pressed to win against Hawkes. The young man was learning all the time.

"Lysa, when he's done here, take him home." Ross' voice rang with urgency. "Cancel tonight's workout. Hell, cancel dinner. You both look exhausted. We've plenty of ships around that if the Chigs dared to show their faces, we'd be protected. Bed him good tonight."

"I think I'll do that, Glen."

Forty minutes later, McQueen headed for the showers accompanied by West, Hawkes, Russell and St. John. The female members of the squad had not been involved in the workout this time.

As the men disappeared from view, Vansen asked, "Is something wrong with him?"

"No. He's just distracted at the moment. He's trying to figure something out and it's driving him nuts." Silver grinned. "Doesn't take much these days."

"Hey, that's our CO you're talking about." Laughing, 'Phousse lightly punched Silver on the arm. "Seriously, though, should we be worried?"

"No. It's something he has to work out. Until he does, though, he's grounded, confined to the ship. That's the XO talking." Silver gave the women a hard look and nodded when they nodded their understanding. "I'm not risking him or you because he gets caught up in it on a mission."

"That wouldn't be fun." Vansen frowned. "Is there anything we can do?"

"Just keep an eye on him when it hits him." Silver shrugged. "That's all we can do."

"He's going to hate being cooped up." Sparing Silver a quick look, 'Phousse asked, "Does he know yet?"

"No. I just made the decision and I'll be the one to tell him."

"I don't envy you that job."

Giving Vansen a small smile, Silver said, "Don't worry about him. I'll take care of him. By the way, I'm canceling the run and workout tonight." As the women grinned, she added, "Let the others know. Tomorrow is simulator day. Get some rest. I intend to throw some new things at you."

"Yes, ma'am."

Finch hesitated.

"Later, Finch. I'll let you know when."

With a nod, Finch left the gym.

McQueen strode out of the locker room five minutes later, hair still wet and a bounce in his step. "Damn, but Hawkes is getting good."

"Would help if you were paying more attention to the bout to start with." She fell in step with him, headed for the elevator.

"I know."

"Ty, I've canceled tonight's usual activities. We're going to our quarters."

"Why?" He stepped into the empty elevator.

"Because, you big goof, I would like to spend some time with my husband who has been too damned distracted lately."

As the doors shut, McQueen asked, "Lysa, have I been neglecting you?"

"In a way. Oh, you sleep in the bed, and, if I really work at it, I can get you to have some fun, but you're never all there lately. So I know what it was like on Dicte for you." She sighed, leaning against the wall. "I know it's because you're so focused on trying to find a way to bloody the Chigs. But I also know, I would like my husband around too."

He pulled her to him and hugged her. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry. Just come make mad, passionate love to me."

"I will."

He kept his word. It was a most satisfying three hours, during which he showed her how much he loved her and needed her. He snuggled down behind her afterward, tired, but happy, and could feel her contentedness and love.

Waking, Silver sighed on finding the bed empty. Her stomach growled, reminding her why she had awakened. Opening the bond, she found him back in the briefing room, concentrating, and underneath she could feel his hunger.

"Damn the man. He couldn't even stop long enough to eat. Botheration." Scowling, she rose and dressed before heading for the Officers' Mess.

Master Sergeant Rollins looked up as she entered the mess. Stepping around the counter, he asked quietly, "Is there a problem?"

"I need something I can take Colonel McQueen. He's working late tonight."

Her not quite relaxed tone caused the sergeant to stiffen slightly, but he asked, "Will sandwiches do? Or do you need something a bit more substantial?"

"Three or four sandwiches would probably do, Rollins." She forced herself to take a deep breath, aware of the impression he had most likely gotten from her tone. "He really is working late and I'm just frustrated at being shut out, that's all. I'll probably be coming back for some more sandwiches in a while. Neither of us ate dinner."

"It'll take me about five mikes. Ok?"

"That's fine. I'll just get myself something to eat in the meantime." She looked over the buffet, eying the over-warmed food with barely concealed disgust.

"I'll make you some sandwiches as well." Rollins frowned at her. "Need to keep you well fed. We depend on you."

"No more than we do you. Without you, we'd have nothing worthwhile to eat."

"I don't think most people would go that far. Given what we have to work with and the time constraints, we do the best we can."

"It's hot and fills the body. That's good enough."

"I'll get those sandwiches." Rollins returned to behind the counter and went into the kitchen. There he started to get out the hoagie rolls. "Peters, heat these up for me, please."

One of the cooks, a woman with mousy brown hair, bright hazel eyes, and a trim figure took the package of rolls. "Who're they for?"

"Colonel McQueen. He's working late tonight." Mayonnaise and mustard went on the counter, followed by a tomato.

"Now that's a hunk." She popped the rolls into the microwave.

Rollins put a bite in his response as he brought out sliced roast beef and ham as well as cheddar cheese and swiss. "He's a married hunk, Peters. He's also a brilliant officer whose managed to keep us alive more times than I can remember." Running a hand through his short, dark blond hair, Rollins said, "The colonel is a good man that too many people treat like dirt because he's a tank."

The microwave beeped and Peters brought out the rolls. "I'll slice them for you."

"Thanks. Six will do." He took the rolls and slathered the condiments on them. "Mind you, Peters, don't believe the tales folks say about tanks. The colonel isn't a sex maniac. His wife is the only woman I've seen him with in nearly three years. You've been here for nearly five months now. I'm sure you've heard people say a lot of things about the colonel. Some of it's true." Meat and cheese started to be layered on the rolls. "Yes, he's a hard man and he'll kick your ass into next month, but he's also fair. He doesn't treat you like dirt just because you're enlisted. You have to earn his dislike." The tomato was sliced thin and put on the layers of meat and cheese.

"I hear you." Peters took a finished sandwich and cut it, setting it on a plate.

The sandwiches were finished and Rollins took them out to Silver. "Here you go, colonel. Half are roast beef; half are ham."

"Thanks, Rollins. You're a life saver."

He glanced down at his lean form. "Hm, I think I'm the wrong shape." Rewarded with her smile, he added, "I'm here until 2300 tonight."

"Ok."

Both Rollins and Peters watched Silver leave the mess.

In the briefing room, Silver set the plate down on the desk. "Eat something, Ty."

"Hm?" He didn't turn from the holo-vid displaying the war-torn star systems and the fleets of both sides.

She reached over and forcefully turned him to face her. "Eat, Ty."

"What? Oh, yes." He spotted the plate and smiled. "You're too good to me, Lysa."

Handing him a sandwich, she said, "Sometimes I'd agree. I'm having two of these. The rest are for you. I want you to eat them all, mister."

"Not a problem." He heard the tone of 'you better obey' and grinned..

"Also, I'm yanking you from missions."

His grin faded. "What?" The sandwich almost to his mouth, he paused to stare at her incredulously.

"Look at yourself. Hell, you can't even sleep through the night without having to work on this. You're forgetting things and you shouldn't be. I'm not risking you or anyone else to your inattention. I'm sorry, Ty, but I'm making the decision as your XO. You're a danger to the squad at the moment." She bit into a sandwich.

He slowly sank down into the chair, setting the sandwich down. Glancing between the computer pads scattered on the desk, the holo-vid he'd been studying, and the computer terminal, he swallowed and nodded once. "You're right. I can't help myself. But if I don't do this-"

"I'm not saying don't do it. I'm telling you that you aren't going on missions until you've finished this. At that point, I'll let you back on the active roster. I expect you to do the rest of your duties, including working out with the squad." She concentrated on eating.

Nodding, he said, "You're right and within your rights as XO. I am a danger to the squad until I get this worked out of my system. Problem is, I don't know how long it's going to take." The sandwich was set down.

"Eat, Ty. We'll deal with it. I'll stop by in a few hours. Hopefully, you'll be ready to go to bed then."

"Hope so."

She grabbed her second sandwich and headed for the door. "I'll just take care of business then."

"Lysa."

She paused, hand on the door. "Yes?"

"I love you."

"And I love you. That's why I'm doing it."

"I know."

When she had left, he forced himself to finish the sandwiches before allowing himself to return to the work.

Four hours later, McQueen stared at the star charts, frustration filling him. He forced himself to take a deep breath and exhale slowly before pulling over a computer pad. Bringing up a new document, he first set a thirty minute timer before putting pen to screen and starting to write whatever came to mind.

The timer went off and he forced himself to stop, to push away from the table and get up. For several minutes, he paced and stretched, deliberately ignoring his writing, clearing his mind, playing Bach's Brandenburg Concerto #2 in his head, until he felt prepared to look at what he had written.

A few quick requests to the computer had the writing sorted. The computer displayed all the words or phrases and counted the number of times he had written them, listing them in the order of numerical descendency. Four words or phrases topped the list: Vestus, Tellus, worm hole, and unacceptable losses. Following those came: out of the box, unexpected, and soon. He frowned at the computer pad and raked his hand through his hair, aware his subconscious was struggling to tell him something, but he just wasn't seeing it.

Glancing at the time, he saw it was nearly 2300. He sighed and gathered up the data cards, computer pad and miscellaneous stuff to take back to his quarters. It was time to go back to his wife and bed.

The trio had left only minutes before McQueen showed up in their quarters. Sitting on the bed and starting to remove his boots, he asked, "Is everyone doing ok?"

"Yes, love. They're worrying though." Silver lay stretched out on top of the covers, naked.

"About me." He threw his boot to the floor. "I'm sorry, Lysa. It's not something I can make go away. Although for the moment, the urgency has ebbed. For which I am extremely grateful."

"What did you do?" She ran her hand over his lower back.

"Nothing." Grimacing, he let the second boot drop.

"Must have been something."

As he stripped off the flight suit, he explained. "I used an old trick. You sit down and write whatever comes to mind. Whatever words you write the most of tends to be related to whatever is bothering you. It helps to focus your mind on the problem."

"And?" She rolled to the side of the bed and sat up, her hands on his hips as he faced away from her.

"I wrote Tellus, Vestus, worm holes, and unacceptable losses. That's easy enough to figure out." He sat down beside her. "It's the rest of it. Out of the box, unexpected, and soon. Hell, I know it needs to be soon and unexpected would be good. Out of the box I know means to change my thinking, but dammit, I'm trying to do that."

Feeling the tension in his body, Silver said, "Lie down, love. I think you need a massage."

He drifted off after fifteen minutes and she worked his upper back until the knots were gone before curling up beside him. "Poor Ty. Sleep deeply. You'll figure it out eventually." Hopefully before it drove him mad with frustration.

Gasping for air, McQueen woke up to find Silver's arms around him. "You're safe, love," she murmured, soothing him mentally.

With a soft cry, he buried his face in her shoulder and let the tears fall, wrapping his arms around her, feeling her warm flesh against his.

She rubbed her cheek along his temple and waited until he merely lay in her arms quiet. "So what was that one about?"

"A cave-in."

The stark terror in his voice made her eyes close as she hugged him tighter. "Oh, my poor Ty. I think we'll put on some music. How about the woods? As far as we can get from the underground."

"Ok." Reluctantly, he allowed her to leave the bed long enough to put the music on. As she slid back into bed, he enfolded her again, needing to feel her warmth and reality.

"That bad?" She stroked his cheek.

"Definitely. I lived through six cave-ins. The first five, we managed to survive and dig out somewhat. Not all of us lived through the cave-ins, but three or four of us hung onto life. The last one... the last one, I was the only survivor and I was pinned under the rocks. I was hallucinating by the time the Army men reached me."

"Army?" She gave him a intrigued look.

He left his head buried in her shoulder. "Yeah. The mining guards weren't going to dig me out. The Army was looking for recruits and they had landed a shuttle at the beginning of my shift. I saw them land. Later I found out that the sergeant was horrified at the fact that the mining personnel weren't even going to try and find out if any of us survived. They dug for twenty hours. Three others had been alive to start with. I could hear their labored breathing, but they never talked to me in the darkness. I listened to them die one by one, probably within the first several hours of being trapped."

"That would be hard on anyone, love."

He nodded. "I was badly injured, but would heal. When the sergeant saw what little there was in the way of medical facilities, he went all cold and hard with the head of the complex. He wanted to know how much of my time was left to serve and he stood right there next to the guy as the records were brought up. Three months. Sergeant Parker paid the remainder of my time and had me put on the shuttle, where the unit's medic worked on me."

"Ah, love. So the first person to care about you as a person was in the military. You've paid that caring back a thousand fold. No wonder you're wed to the military." She felt him jerk away.

With a firmness that pleased her, he said, "I'm married to you."

"But first to the military." She smiled softly. "Tell me, honestly, right now. Can you possibly imagine a life outside the military?"

He shook his head slowly. "Especially with this war on."

"So, you wedded yourself to the Corps. I don't mind since I'm the same way. I think we'll be in it until we're old and grey. Now, put your head down and go back to sleep. We have a busy day tomorrow."

Hugging her tightly, he whispered in her ear, "I love you."

"I know and I love you too. Now, go to sleep, love."

Rocking him gently in her arms, she knew when he fell asleep ten minutes later. Still for another ten minutes, she held him, letting him feel her love, knowing deep down he remained a scared child and that she was both wife and mother to him. Such knowledge did not disturb her for she had known it from the time they had met. His courage to continue fighting for his sanity and to keep from being drawn down into the depths of his fears while becoming a man inspired her. Giving her man-child a loving kiss on the cheek, she snuggled against him and let herself go back to sleep.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter Ten - 2 Souls Bound Page 20

Disclaimer: The names of all 'Space: Above and Beyond' characters contained herein are the property of Glen Morgan and James Wong, Hard Eight Productions and the Fox Broadcasting Network. These names have been used without their permission. All else is my own creation.

Rating: NC17 Language, violence and graphic sex.

Spoilers: None

Warning: Sex, Language.

Author: Vasalysa, with many undying thanks to Geek.

E-Mail: 

2 Souls Bound

Chapter Ten

Waking before the alarm, McQueen rolled out of bed and headed for the bathroom, wanting a shower. The water came on and he wrinkled his nose at the smell of chlorine, but got in anyway. Combating the chlorine smell was the strawberry scent which he loved about Silver's shampoo and he decided to use it over his regular no-scent shampoo.

His head was tilted back under the water when he knew she was stepping into the shower with him. He smiled and reached out, pulling her close to him.

"Don't like your shampoo today?"

"I didn't feel like smelling like chlorine." He stepped out of the water to let her under it.

"What?" She sniffed. "It is stronger than normal, but not that bad."

"It's really strong." Picking up her shampoo, he waited for her to finish wetting down before beginning to wash her hair. "The strawberry helps cut the smell."

"So, does anything else seem stronger?" She stood relaxed, enjoying the feeling of his fingers kneading her scalp.

A faint smile crossed his lips. "Well... I can still smell the fact that you had the trio in here last night." Feeling her tighten slightly, he added, "And no, it doesn't bother me. I know why they were here, both reasons. I could also smell my sweat from that damn dream. That's why I wanted a shower. Time to rinse."

The shampoo rinsed, Silver took the liquid soap and started rubbing it over his chest. "Anything else more sensitive this morning?" Her hands stroked down his hard abdomen and she crouched to run them down his thighs, enjoying the way he unconsciously parted his legs. Cupping him, kneading gently, she grinned as he responded quickly. "I'd say so."

About to pull her up, McQueen gasped softly as she took his hardening cock into her mouth. He braced himself as she sucked him, running her hands across his body, rinsing the soap off and tweaking his nipples. Every swirl and lick of her tongue, every suck made him harder and he moaned, head tossed back, as she buried his entire length in her mouth. The sensations of being completely engulfed sent him over the edge. He jerked and shuddered into her mouth, fingers clawing at the walls.

Silver drank him dry, loving the taste of him, and rose, turning the water off as she did so. More than enough time remained for them to enjoy themselves and take a second shower before going to breakfast.

The feeling of a towel running over his body brought McQueen out of his daze. When she kissed him, he returned it hungrily, guessing what was in store. He grinned at her as he swept her up into his arms and carried her over to the bed. "All right. I'm going to pay attention to you now, my dear." He did his best impression of a lech.

"Is that a lecherous leer on your face?" Laughing, she pulled him down onto her. "By all means, show me how lecherous you can be."

An hour later, he led the way into the mess hall, breathing through his mouth. The smells had hit him halfway down the corridor and it took everything he had to enter. In the line, he fidgeted, struggling not to bolt and run away.

"The smell's bothering you." Even as he nodded, she said, "Let's see if I can help. Hold my hand and just concentrate on breathing." She eased down the bond, feeling him take her hand, and imagined a small filter over his nose. "How's that?" she asked, sliding back out.

"Better. What did you do?" He released her hand in order to take a tray and a plate before starting down the line of food.

Getting her own tray, she answered, "Helped your subconscious control the input. We'll work on it later. Right now, I want to eat. We have sims in two hours and I have some stuff planned. I want you there, too."

Putting something that at least looked like sausage on his plate, he asked, "Even though you've pulled me from active duty?"

"Yes. I want you at all the sims. Knowing you, I really doubt that you'll be overcome even when fake flying, but I'd rather not risk it out in space. But, I've come up with some twists and turns and I want you as up on them as the rest of the squad." She finished piling food on her plate and headed for the coffee urns.

He nodded, following her. "Ok."

Spotting the squad trotting in, McQueen saw Vansen give Silver a concerned look. "Shane seems a bit, um, worried about you."

"I told her I was going to tell you about the grounding." Silver grinned and smiled at Vansen, making a shooing motion toward the chow line. "Guess she was worried you might take it amiss."

"Not in this case. You are completely within your rights to ground me. I'm a danger to the squad this way." His good mood started to dissipate.

Silver caught his attention, stabbing her fork in the air at him. "Oh, no, you don't. No moping. I expect you to be in good spirits. After everyone's eaten, I want you and the squad to do some studying until it's time for the sims." She speared some possible sausage, saying, "I want you ready for those sims. They're going to be tough."

He sat back, setting his fork down. "Lysa, should I? I mean, if I get distracted... I'll be a handicap for the squad."

"Not this time. I want you to focus on the studying. The flying will keep you concentrated, I'll bet. Just work with me."

"I'll do my best. Any idea why my sense of smell seems so much more sensitive than normal?" He forced himself to eat.

"Maybe it has something to do with our bond and your subconscious. I don't know." She sighed softly. "We'll deal with it."

Nodding, he concentrated on eating.

Griffon walked in and steered a course straight for Silver, a computer pad under one arm. "May I join you?"

Gesturing to a seat, McQueen asked, "Are you managing to keep yourself occupied?"

Setting the computer pad on the table, Griffon sat down on McQueen's right. "Definitely. Terrilli has needed a lot of work. I've managed to teach him how to distance himself from the images in the dreams and analyze them to a degree." Griffon propped his elbows on the table and rested his chin on his folded hands. "He's sleeping up to five hours at a stretch. Monty's happier with that."

"He was getting worn out, keeping Terrilli sane." Silver tapped the computer pad. "Is that what I asked for?"

"Yes. What did you need it for?" Griffon pushed the pad over to her.

"Be in the simulation room at 0900. You can see for yourself."

Hearing the command in her voice, Griffon raised an eyebrow. "I outrank you."

Her predatory grin sent a shiver down McQueen's spine. "Really want to push it? The only reason I've stayed a major was I wanted to be a Marine first, Black Forces second. Ask Mac, Grif, ask him what I draw pay as, then try pushing me."

Griffon's eyes narrowed for several seconds as he thought rapidly. Slamming back into his chair, he frowned. "Dammit, you're the damned Ghost, aren't you? The one they've kept wrapped in secrecy."

"The one and only."

"Shit." Griffon raked a hand through his hair. "Shit. All right, Silver. Besides, you would just beat some sense into my thick head." He managed a weak grin.

"Damn straight."

"Lysa, would you mind explaining this latest of puzzles to me?" McQueen looked from one to the other. "Why are you this Ghost he's talking about?"

"Ghost was my code name in the Black Forces. For those missions like that last one. The one who takes the missions no one has a chance of surviving. After I managed three of them, I earned the name. It enabled me to draw pay two ranks higher than my actual rank. I made good money." Silver sat back in her chair, pushing her empty plate away. "I'm not accepting those missions any more."

There was a lack of finality to the last statement that made McQueen look at her sharply. "Lysa, are they pressuring you to do a deep mission?"

"No. Nor have they approached me. They're aware of the fact I'll turn them down."

"Unless..." McQueen prompted.

She took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. "Unless it is absolutely imperative. The sort of thing that the war really could hinge upon. I've made it clear that they better be absolutely sure of the fact before they even ask me. Otherwise I'll turn it down. I'm not risking my life, not now." Her hand touched his across the table. "I have no desire to be separated from you like that and I can't take you."

Staring at her, McQueen felt a chill as he knew what was going to happen. His eyes reflected his dawning horror and he spoke in a whisper. "I'm going to send you on that mission, Lysa. This... this damn thing I'm working on... you're going to be going in before us."

"We'll see. If so, then we'll deal with it." She squeezed his hand. "Don't worry about it, Ty. Let's see what you come up with first. Then we'll work on the rest of it. If I have to go, I will. But that's in the future. You don't even have the plan out of your head yet, so I'll not worry about it until then. Neither should you. Just concentrate on what you've got to do now."

"I can't just ignore what I've realized."

"Yes, you can, Ty. Lock it away and ignore it until you need to look at it. You have the ability to do it. I can even help you." She held his hand tightly.

"I'll try."

Griffon shook his head. "Damn, I don't need this. 0900, you said?"

"Yes." Silver didn't look at Griffon as he rose.

"Then I'll see you there."

Silver waited until Griffon had left before saying, "Ty, lock it away until later. Do it now. Don't let it rule you." When he nodded jerkily, she eased into the bond and gave him power to do the deed. She had the sensation of a door being shut and locked. Eased back out, she smiled gently. "There, you've done it."

He grimaced. "I have the feeling I'm going to regret this."

"You're just locking it away for a short time. It'll be fine. Now, finish your breakfast. I want to escort you and the squad to the briefing room. Once you're settled in studying, then I'll go finish prepping the sims."

Shoving his empty plate away, McQueen said, "What are we studying?"

"Turn of the century tactics and scenarios. I want to refresh their memories."

"Why?" He rose, picking up his plate and mug.

She followed him to the dirty dish counter. "It was a time of uncertainty and brazen stupidity on the part of our government. The best thing that came out of the time is the United Earth Government, but our country is still recovering from the aftermath of that time. The political situation back home has the potential to devolve back into that time and I want the squad to understand the dangers." Walking to the coffee urns, she added, "Besides, we need to prepare them for the reality of the political situation they'll be dropped into when the war is over."

"I don't even want to think about that, especially right now." He filled his mug.

She drank some of her coffee. "I won't force you, but you should think about it. If we survive the war, we'll be shoved into the forefront of the military's attempts to keep its funding. The 5-8 will have no choice about the politics then. It's better to lay the groundwork now then have them thrown in with no warning of the sharks waiting for them."

"I hate politics." Drinking half his coffee, he refilled the mug. "All right, I agree, but you're not going to make it all politics, are you?"

"No, just enough to make sense out of why things happened the way they did." Smiling at him, she touched his shoulder. "It's mostly scenarios and figuring out what would be the way to respond to the situation."

He nodded. "Ok." His gaze strayed to the computer pad. "Just what are you planning to throw at us, then?"

"You'll see." Her grin changed to mischievous and she nodded toward the squad. "Let's see if we can get them finished and settled down to studying."

"Dare I ask, who's running the study group?"

"Monty."

"What?" McQueen stared at her, nearly stumbling.

"Close your mouth, love. He's a history buff and the late 20th and early 21st centuries are his specialty. He's really good at it. I think he should have been a history teacher."

Stopping, McQueen said, "And you never should have been a teacher. He's a good soldier, though. I don't know how you were as a teacher."

"Horrible, but I did have the best mannered kids in the school." She laughed softly.

McQueen became aware of the fact that people were watching and managed not to redden as he continued walking to the 5-8's table. To his relief, they appeared to be nearly finished eating. "Is everyone aware that we're due in the briefing room at 0700?"

"What?" came from most of the squad, looking frantically around at one another.

"Told you," smirked Russell. "You didn't believe us."

"Are we going on a mission?" asked Hawkes, his blue eyes anxious.

"No. Just be there on time." McQueen took a sip of his coffee.

"Will you be there, sir?" Vansen gave him a concerned look.

"Yes. I'll also be doing the sims. She's cooked something up to challenge us all." McQueen crooked a finger at Silver. "Whatever devious thing she's devised, I want to find out first hand. Not in a report."

Vansen smiled, pleased.

"Everyone finished?" McQueen asked.

"Yes, sir," came the chorus.

"Then let's go. We've only got five mikes."

Silver watched the squad leave and smiled to herself. Patting the computer pad, she headed to the simulation room.

McQueen nodded his appreciation at Monty for the information and scenarios given. Despite the dread he had approached the study time with, he had found it extremely interesting. The sergeant's method of teaching had involved telling them like he, and they by extension, had been there at the time. Sketching in background information, drawing them in, until several of the squad were actually sitting on the edge of their seats, eagerly listening, Monty had kept their attention and actively engaged them in the scenarios. By the time the sergeant had regretfully finished, McQueen knew he had learned quite a bit and the scenarios had kept them on their toes.

Now he led the way to the squad's locker room, the squad on his six as he strode through the corridors.

A grin touched Silver's mouth as she felt McQueen's determination to reach the simulation room on time.

"Ok, Colonel. That's the last one. They're all up and running." A female engineer crawled out from under a simulation cockpit. "Should be no problem with them."

"Good. I've got sixteen pilots I've got to run through them." Silver gave the young woman a hand up. "Thanks, Ginger."

Shaking her red hair back, Ginger smiled. "No sweat. Kinda of nice to do something like this for a change. Beats crawling through the tubes to get to old wire harnesses."

"So Williams is still retro-fitting?"

"Hell, yes. He never stops really except for when he's asleep." Ginger grinned. "Some of the warrants have taken to spiking his coffee occasionally so they can get some rest."

"I didn't hear anything." Grinning, Silver said, "Thanks again, Ginger."

"Later, Colonel."

The engineer had just vanished out the far door when the 5-8 entered through the main door. Silver gave McQueen a quick grin as Hawkes closed the door. "Hope you're ready for this."

His eyes running over the sixteen cockpits, McQueen asked, "Who else is invited to the party?"

Before Silver could answer, the door opened again. First through the door came Williamson, followed by the rest of the 79th all in their flight gear. "I understand you requested some guinea pigs." Williamson smiled easily.

"These are yours, Major." Silver gestured to the cockpits that Ginger had just finished working on. "The 5-8 will use these." She pointed to the other set of cockpits.

"Any particular reason for the choice?" Williamson gave the two rows of eight a quick once over.

"No, just an arbitrary decision. If you want the other set, go ahead." Silver shrugged, turning to McQueen. "We'll be here for four hours. Make any pit stops you want in the next five mikes. Once in, you're staying in."

"Four hours?" groused one of the 7-9's women. "We'll miss lunch."

"Can it," snapped Williamson. "You'd miss it if we were on patrol."

"But we're not on patrol."

Williamson spun and glared at the woman. "Five demerits, Collins."

"Yes, sir," the woman said sullenly.

"We've been asked by Colonel Silver to participate. You don't hear her squad pissing and moaning about the time limit."

As Williamson continued to harangue Collins, Hawkes said in a muttered undertone to West, "Only because she beat us to it."

West started to laugh, frantically changed it to a cough as McQueen glared at him, and wound up coughing for real as he swallowed wrong.

"Do you need to sit this one out, West?" growled McQueen.

"No, sir," managed West, nearly smiling when he saw the twinkle in McQueen's eyes.

"Good." McQueen nodded once. "Five mikes, folks."

"Yes, sir." The 5-8 jogged to the nearest latrine, McQueen right behind them.

"You heard the colonel. Five mikes. Get your asses in gear," barked Williamson, following his squad out of the room.

Unnoticed by either group, Griffon stood in the shadows at the back of the room, having entered just as Ginger left by the back door. "So just what am I getting into here, Sa?"

"Just referee. We're going to have some interesting dogfights. First will be the two working together against a foe. Then they'll fly against each other."

"Just what am I refereeing?"

"You get the final say on who's dead if there's a dispute. It happens."

"Oh, I see. I get to be the bad guy." Griffon grinned.

"You wanted to see what I was using the information for. If you weren't here, it would be me." Silver shrugged. "Comes with the territory. Of course, no one in their right mind would argue with you."

"Right." Griffon shook his head. "Ok. I'll do it."

"The 79th are supposed to be good. I want to see how good. Plus I want to push the 5-8. They're going to need it."

"Are you seeing visions now?" Griffon's voice held worry.

Shaking her head, Silver didn't face the Black Forces vampire. "No. Just a feeling. Whatever Ty comes up with is going to be major, putting a lot of lives on the line. I want to make sure they have enough of an edge to survive it."

"I've learned to trust these feelings of yours, Sa. Shall I pass it on?"

"Just Mac." Silver rubbed her upper arms briskly. "Enough of this, Grif. They'll be back soon. I want to make sure the 79th understand not to cross your decisions."

"No problem."

The Wildcards returned first. McQueen folded his arms, standing straight. "We'll let them choose first."

"Or I can decide it." Griffon smiled at the way McQueen snapped his head around. "I'm here, just like I've been _asked_."

"Best way to stay on her good side," replied McQueen, smiling over at Silver.

The squad had enough time to exchange bemused looks at the fact that their CO was exchanging quips with the man who on their first meeting had beaten McQueen to a pulp. Their intrigued glances quickly changed to bland masks as the 79th entered.

Williamson swept his gaze over his people before turning to face Silver. "We're ready, Colonel."

Silver nodded once. Her voice sounded calm as she spoke. "Good. Colonel Griffon will be referee of this session."

The members of the 5-8 watched not Griffon, but the 7-9's reactions to seeing a Black Forces member being introduced as the referee. Eyes widened, taking in the jet black uniform with no name tag, no rank insignia, no patches of any sort, seeing the hard, unyielding, scarred face gazing impassively back at them. No one in the United Earth Forces who wanted to keep their career would dare to question the judgment of a member in the most elite fighting force Earth had ever conceived. All nationalities were allowed in it, so long as they were the best of the best. What the 5-8 knew, and the 7-9 did not, included the knowledge that the Black Forces were over seventy-five percent composed of vampires.

Williamson nodded curtly. "There'll be no trouble accepting his decision."

"I should hope not," growled Griffon, crossing his arms and scowling.

Several of the 7-9 glanced at each other in panic at Griffon's obvious displeasure. Others nodded quickly, thought better of it and shook their heads before stopping in consternation.

Williamson gave his squad a brief scowl and sighed. "There'll be no trouble from us."

"Or us, Griffon," Vansen managed in a warm tone, remembering that the Black Forces vampire had shown up at their CO's bachelor party. Griffon had spent time with both Russell and McQueen before leaving the men and making himself available to the women, partly at Silver's request. She figured that most vampires had to be like him, considerate and thorough as a lover. Only the huge amount of alcohol she had consumed enabled her to allow him to make love to her, but she did know that he had done nothing else. Silver had paid close attention to him the entire time.

Griffon flashed Vansen a brief smile. The smile died from his eyes as he said, "I will flip a coin. I will assign heads or tails to a set of 'pits. McQueen, you call it."

A nod of acceptance and McQueen watched as Williamson's jaw tightened briefly before the man forcibly relaxed. Williamson had a problem with Black Forces, McQueen thought.

From a pocket, Griffon took a coin. It flipped high into the air. "Heads," he pointed to his left. "Tails," was on his right.

"Heads," McQueen said calmly, not really caring which set they got.

The coin was snatched out of the air and slapped down on the back of Griffon's hand. A wry smile and Griffon announced, "Tails."

McQueen and the 5-8 headed for the simulators on Griffon's right.

Once everyone was in their cockpits, Silver activated the canopies to drop down and put on her headset as she sat down at her console. "Everyone hear me ok?" Assured that everyone could hear her, she continued. "First off, a joint exercise so you can learn each other's flying styles. Take out the enemy, folks." She hit the start button and knew that each pilot felt as though they were being dropped down into their Hammerheads from the docking bay. Handing Griffon another headset, she sat back to watch the action unfold on her monitors.

Five minutes later, she terminated the scenario. She exchanged looks with Griffon who pointed to himself as cockpit canopies started to open.

"What the hell? We were toasting the Chigs. Why stop it?" Hawkes yanked his helmet off.

Griffon ignored Hawkes, turning his level gaze on the 79th. "Just what was that pathetic display? If that's the way you fight, I'll have your papers drawn up and have you out of here in less than twenty-four hours. We don't need casualties. We need pilots who can fly and kill the enemy."

"We were," snapped Collins, glaring at Griffon.

"You and the major were the only two left alive in your squadron. I assume the only reason for it was because you're his wingman," ground out Griffon.

Collins looked taken aback and she glanced at the other members of the squad who didn't meet her eyes. In his cockpit, Williamson sat bolt upright.

"The purpose of this exercise is for you to show us what you are capable of." Griffon let his eyebrow slowly ride upward. "So far you've shown us how you can die. This time, show us how you can fight."

"We're not used to simulators. We didn't use them back on..." Collins rubbed her arm. "We didn't use them. We had plenty of flying time with the fights and patrols."

"Here, we use the simulators because they can be programmed to present scenarios that we can't do in space." Silver tapped the console. "It doesn't waste fuel and it's easy to set up, comparatively."

"Let's do it again. This time, right." Williamson gave his people a disappointed look.

"Canopies lowering." Silver activated the canopies and saw Hawkes hurriedly putting his helmet back on.

This time the 79th managed to survive the encounter intact, barely. Silver watched the new squadron struggle through the scenario, their teamwork finally coming together by the end of fifteen minutes. Even as the last Chig was destroyed and she heard Hawkes reporting that the there was no sign of the enemy, she sent in a second wave, a mix of bombers and fighters as well as other human squadrons.

The 79th fought the second wave well, but Silver saw no signs of the sort of teamwork that made the 58th and the 64th the great squadrons that they were. Hawkes was the weak link in the 58th, but he rarely wandered off these days from his wingman position. With the 79th, they lacked real teamwork. They saved one another, but at the last second, when it was almost too late. The lack of cohesion worried her. That would lead to unnecessary deaths.

The last Chig destroyed by Collins, Silver said, "Better, folks. Now," she flipped a switch, "you've just been dropped into a hot zone with orders to bomb and strafe the planetary areas on your maps. Let's test your accuracy."

On her screens, Silver watched as the two squadrons split into four pairs apiece. In the 5-8, one member assumed a higher flight path, obviously prepared to shoot down any opposition. A smile crossed her lips.

Mike turned off, Griffon said, "Why was this squad transferred here?"

"We need the bodies. We're down five squadrons, Grif. Five. They're supposed to be good, better than we're seeing. I just don't get it."

"Maybe they just don't treat the sims like the real thing."

Frowning, Silver said, "You could be right. But they'll need to. It's the only way we can practice without tipping off the universe as to what we're doing."

"And just what _are_ we doing?"

"Preparing for a major battle."

"We are?"

"Terrilli's having visions of a major ground battle, right?"

"Right," answered Griffon slowly.

"Ty's driven to work up a major victory for our side and he's received a warning of some sort from Jalke. Tell me that they're not related."

Griffon grabbed a chair and sat down on it backwards. "Dammit, Lysa, why didn't you tell me sooner? I might have been able to help him."

"No. It's something he has to work out. I need you to keep Anton straightened out, Grif. We're going to need him and his squad intact and functional." Silver grinned at the console. "Now things get interesting. They've been flying with minimal opposition. Let's see how they handle some major opposition."

"The 58th is already ahead in kills." Griffon rested his chin on his arms. "Just what do you want me to monitor and make decisions about?"

"Here's one." She tapped the monitor showing the progress of West and 'Phousse. "Did they destroy enough of the target to qualify as a success?"

Nearly twenty mikes later, the bombing and strafing runs were finished. Not all of their hits were successes, but overall, the outcome had been good and none of the sixteen had died, much to the surprise of Silver and Griffon. The 79th had several near deaths due to both pilots in the pair deciding to either go for the ground target or the incoming enemy fighters. For the 58th, there had been no near destructions; their maneuvers had worked well.

"Very good, people. Now, as a change of pace, a free for all, everyone against everyone. Last man alive wins." With the push of a button, Silver created the illusion that the cockpits were separated and bearing in on one another.

"So, where is the information you had me dig up coming in?" Griffon leaned forward on his arms.

"Comes up after this exercise." Four cockpits lights already revealed their occupants had died. "Looks like the 58th will win this one hands down." The monitors for McQueen, West, Vansen and Hawkes each showed one kill.

"Will it be Hawkes or McQueen?" Griffon smiled, knowing her answer.

"Obviously it'll be Ty." She grinned.

Ten minutes later, McQueen remained the last active player with six kills. He had just taken out Hawkes with his four kills. Vansen had been shot down by Hawkes with three kills to her credit.

Activating her mike, Silver said, "Good job. It's time to work now. Beside your seats, you'll find a computer pad. Review the information in it. You have five mikes." Silver leaned back. "They're going to perform a bombing run on the primary facilities and go after the secondary targets. Using what you've given me, I've programmed the simulation with the estimated defenses. Now let's see how they do."

Thirty minutes later, Silver sighed as she leaned back in her chair. "Damn." Already, nine were dead. Only Vansen, Hawkes, Russell and McQueen remained in the 58th. "Pretty tough."

"Damn right it is. It cost us two teams to get that scanty information, Lysa. Five out of six died." Griffon's voice deepened with distress.

"I know, Grif. But it won't be in vain. I'm ninety percent sure that this is the target he's going to go for." Scrubbing her face roughly, Silver added, "No matter how we look at it, we're going to pay a terrible cost no matter how and where we try to beat the Chigs back. But we'll pay an even worse price if we don't do something soon. However the Chigs are doing it, they're pushing us back, system by system. We need to turn this around."

"I agree, but it's going to hurt. What makes this spot worth the cost?"

"You know it as well as I do, Grif. The wormholes. It's got three wormholes, two of which lead deeper into our territory. Give the Chigs enough time and they'll send forces through those wormholes large enough to overwhelm our fleets on the other side." Silver sighed. "Of course, it's the same for anyone we send through."

"It'll be a massacre."

"I'm betting on him, Grif. He'll come up with something that will work. It'll hurt, but it will work." She studied the monitors still active. "Look at the numbers here, Grif. Just over half the fighters gone, but they've done three quarters of the damage necessary to call it a success."

"But that doesn't count the ground fighting."

"I can't simulate that. I have to go with what I can do." Seeing that the remaining pilots had finished their runs, Silver nodded. "They've finished this one. I plan on running them through this twice more, changing their positions. I'll give them something fun to do between the runs, ending with a fun run before we call it quits for today."

By the time the four hours finally finished, Silver knew that the pilots were drained. The remaining two runs on the planet had been rough with nearly three quarters of them dead both times. She unlocked the canopies, alerted the pilots that they could get out and kept her eyes on McQueen as he shoved the canopy upward. She had noticed that he had turned down his volume levels.

"Doing ok, Ty?" she whispered, wondering how sensitive his hearing was at the moment.

His head came up and he nodded once, gaze flicking to Williamson. "Major Williamson, you flew well."

Standing beside the simulator, Williamson wrenched his helmet off. "Not as well as you or your squad." Williamson smoothed a frown away, shook himself and smiled. "Sorry. We've gotten used to being the best on our old ship. 'Course she wasn't a carrier. Stings the pride to find out we're not up to snuff here."

"You've got a couple of weeks to get some practice in before we leave the system. Make good use of the time." McQueen tucked his helmet under his arm. "The simulators are available most of the time. Just write in when you want them and you'll be notified if you can't have the time."

"We'll do that." Williamson bustled his squad out of the room.

McQueen gave Vansen a nod, silently dismissing the squadron.

"All right, folks. Let's hit the showers and then the mess." Vansen quickly moved the squadron out of the room.

Watching the last of the 58th vanish, McQueen strolled over to the console. "All right, I give. What the hell were we bombing?"

"Installations on Tellus."

His eyes widened slightly. "How the hell..." He glanced over at the departing 79th. "Is that what Griffon gave you this morning?"

"It is." Griffon tossed his headset on the console on top of Silver's discarded one. "We lost five lives getting that information. Only one made it back."

"Sorry to hear that." McQueen grimaced, but eyed the computer pad on the console almost eagerly. "Can I look it over?"

"After lunch, Ty. Which will be after a shower." Silver grinned at him. "Come on. Let's get you out of your gear." She grabbed the computer pad and headed for the main door. "See you later, Grif."

"Sure." Griffon took the back door.

Throughout lunch, McQueen had to forcibly keep his eyes off the computer pad. All he wanted was to start going over the information. It had to help him make up his mind as to what to do.

Silver took pity on him once he was nearly finished. Sliding the pad over the table, she said, "Finish up and then go. I'll check on you in an hour or so."

The last four bites disappeared. 'Thanks."

She watched him nearly jog out of the mess, the computer pad tucked under his arm, and shook her head. He'd be lost until she forced him up for air.

At 1930, Silver unlocked the briefing room door and entered, expecting what exactly she wasn't sure. What she found was McQueen staring at the star system holographic display, the computer pad's pen tapping his chin in a slow rhythm. She eyed the desk with misgivings as every inch was covered, leaving no room for the tray she had brought.

"Ty." Not relying on her voice alone, Silver tweaked him mentally.

His head snapped around, eyes narrowed. About to speak, he spotted the heavily ladened tray in her hands and realized the problem. Hurriedly he cleared enough room on the desk in the immediate area before him and inhaled the mingled scents. "That's real coffee!"

"Trust you to realize that first." She grinned. "Rollins sent it with his compliments. Now, I want you to eat. It's been six hours and you've been working non-stop if I know you."

"That long?" Glancing at his timepiece, McQueen shook his head in disbelief. "It only seems like a couple of hours to me." His stomach promptly informed him it had been too long.

Uncovering the tray, Silver revealed a plate filled with meat loaf and mashed potatoes with gravy, steamed carrots, and two dinner rolls. On a small plate sat what looked like a slice of apple pie topped with whipped cream. A small urn that held coffee waited beside an empty mug. "I stopped by a couple of times since you came in here, but you didn't notice me. So after dinner, I asked Rollins if he could whip up something for you."

"He outdid himself. Tell him thanks for me." McQueen started eating.

Smiling, Silver brought the other wheeled chair over to the desk, sitting down where she could look over what was on the desk. "Any inspiration yet?"

"Not quite. I've got that sensation of knowing I know what I want, but I can't get it out where I can see it or say it. Frustrating." He cut up the meat loaf, stuffing several pieces in his mouth.

"The tip of the tongue syndrome. Everyone gets it from time to time." She glanced at the various charts scattered on the desk and then up at the holographic display. "So, you're trying to decide where to hit them?"

"Actually, I'm pretty sure I want to go for Tellus. I just haven't figured out how to do it without our forces being massacred." Picking up a dinner roll, he smiled with pleasure at the fact it was soft, indicating it was fresh. He started sopping up some gravy with the bread. "Somehow, we have to get a force into the system and free up the two wormholes so that more of our forces can get in. Once I figure out how to get the first force in there, I'm set. The rest of it will fall into place."

As he continued eating, she stared at the holographic display. Tellus was marked green in the Epsilon Indi system as the sole habitable planet. Three other planets were the orange of atmospheres unsuitable for both human and Chig life. Nearby the Epsilon Indi system, she saw a system held by the humans that had three wormholes, none of which linked to the star system they wanted to take. "Wormholes are funny things, love. You'd think that they would link systems close to one another, but they don't all the time. We have Groombridge 34 that links to Sol, Wolf 1055, Ross 154, and Luyten's Star. You have to jump through Wolf 1055 to get to Epsilon Indi. That's the fastest way to do it. Ross 154, which is less than five light years from our destination, unfortunately links to Groombridge 34, Altair, and CD-44 11909." Shaking her head, she added, "Would be nice if they'd just give them all a decent name. Would be nicer if we could just cut in from Ross 154 to Epsilon Indi."

McQueen's head turned to face the holograph and he stopped chewing for a moment, his eyes fixing on Lacaille 9352. "Cut in from Ross..." Voice trailing away, he chewed his lower lip in concentration.

"Eat, Ty. Think later." Reaching over, Silver turned his head away from the holograph. "I'm serious. Eat, Ty. If you stop now, you'll waste Rollins' efforts."

"And he'd never cook me a decent meal again." With a shudder, McQueen dug into his food, not letting the idea in his head disappear, but concentrating on his meal. He cleaned his plate and wolfed down the apple pie. One cup of coffee in him, he picked up the coffee urn and poured another mug. "Ok, I'm finished. Check on me in a few hours, please. I might need more coffee or something."

"I will." Before he could turn back to the holograph, she turned his head toward her. "Hey, I love you."

"And I you. Thanks for being so understanding, but I have to do this, now."

"Go on. I'll make sure to bring you something to eat and drink."

"Thanks." Even as she picked up the tray and started for the door, his eyes were already focusing on the holograph.

At 0230, Silver woke up and felt for McQueen, smiling as she felt his concentration remained as intense as it had at 2300. He hadn't even looked up as she replaced his coffee urn with a fresh one and set a plate of cold cuts on the desk. When she had led his hand to the plate, he had latched onto a slice of ham and eaten it absently. The same had happened with the coffee, but she had seen that he continued to eat, even though he wasn't paying attention to it.

Rolling out of bed, she dressed quickly and headed for the mess. Rollins had told her that he would set aside an urn of orange juice in the first refrigerator for her to take as well as something else easy for McQueen to eat.

She shoved the just unlocked door aside and allowed it to close behind her as she entered the briefing room. The tray she set down across the chair she had used earlier so that she could clear a spot on the desk. Replacing the coffee urn with the orange juice carafe took a second and then she moved a stack of charts to make room for the plate of split bagels spread with cream cheese. Grabbing his idle left hand, Silver guided it to the first bagel. He took it and started eating, still focused on his writing.

A glance at the charts and the holograph told her only that he was still working on the Epsilon Indi angle. Too many lines in different colors had been used on the holograph for her to figure out which ones were the most recent and pertinent to whatever his plan was.

Satisfied with his condition, she headed back to bed. Her alarm would wake her at 0600 so she could bring breakfast for them both to him.

Scrubbing his face, McQueen tossed his stylus down, giving a heavy sigh and leaning back in his chair. The driving urgency had finally burned out and he thought the hardest part lay behind him. All that remained were the last minute adjustments and looking at it with fresh eyes.

"Done?"

The warmth that flooded him with her soft question made him smile. "Yes, for now. It's little stuff, but the basic plan is finished. I'll give it to Glen when I've tied off the loose ends." He glanced over at Silver. "How long have I been working?"

"Well, when am I starting the count? After lunch yesterday or after I made you eat dinner?"

"Either way, I'm not going to like the answer. Dinner, please." He raked his hand through his hair, grimacing at the dirty feel.

"It's 0700. You're thirty mikes shy of twelve hours." She started sorting through the mess on the desk. "Help me out here so we can eat. What do you need to keep and what can we put away?"

Ten minutes later, they were sitting down to a still warm meal. McQueen tucked in as if he hadn't eaten during the night.

"After you eat, go to bed." When it looked as if he would protest, she shook her head. "Oh, no, you don't. You're exhausted, Ty. Work on it after you've had some sleep."

He hesitated, then nodded. "You're right. I'll be in better shape then to look it over."

"Where would you like the plan stored? Your quarters?"

"Yes. Maybe I should..." Reluctantly he met her eyes.

"If you want to sleep there, it's all right, Ty. You just want to get back to work as soon as possible. I understand. Just remember to take a shower and change." She ate her food steadily and watched as he continued eating.

They finished eating at the same time and together they gathered up his materials to take to his old quarters. By the time they reached them, he was staggering with exhaustion. She set her burdens down on the desk and took what he held. The door shut, Silver turned to him and unzipped his flight suit, yanking it down to his knees. He sat on the bed and struggled out of the turtleneck as she unlaced his boots and removed them before finishing the job with the flight suit.

"You should shower first, but as long as you promise to do so after you wake up..." She pushed him over backwards onto the bed.

Dragging his feet onto the bed and snuggling down into his pillow, McQueen muttered, "Of course I will." His eyes closed.

Chuckling, Silver tucked the covers in about him and left, switching off the light.

"Good God, Ty. This... This... Do you have the vaguest idea how long it's going to take?" Ross glared at McQueen across his desk, cigar hanging from his mouth, hands on hips. The papers and charts McQueen had worked so hard on lay scattered between them.

With a soft sigh, McQueen nodded. "Yes, I do. Four weeks, minimum. That's just to get the necessary fleet components to their rendevous point. It'll be another week for the actual voyage, if they leave from the system I've indicated."

"Bloody Hell, Ty, you realize the logistics level needed to achieve this?"

McQueen nodded once more. "That's why it has to take four weeks. Tipping off the Chigs or the AIs isn't an option. I've planned it out carefully. It should work."

"And if it doesn't? You'll have condemned that force to be trapped in a Chig controlled system with no way out. They will be lost to us forever. There will be no survivors."

"Not lost to us." McQueen held his friend's gaze. He knew Ross hadn't gotten around to seeing the ships he had picked.

Ross stared at McQueen, stunned. He slowly sat down, shoulders slumping. His voice trembled. "Ty, it's a death sentence if we don't pull it off."

"I know, Glen." McQueen leaned over the desk toward his friend. "But I carefully selected ships and squadrons. I think we have a seventy-five to eighty percent chance of pulling it off. They won't expect it."

"Why Tellus?" Ross straightened up, dealing with the situation.

McQueen had clearly been expecting the question. "The Epsilon Indi system is less than twelve light years from Earth, with three wormholes to defend. One of which is only two jumps from Earth. We have to take it before the Chigs push through and do a Round Hammer with _our_ home world as the anvil." McQueen searched through the discs on the desk and, on finding the one he wanted, slid it into the holographic displayer. "We'll be coming at them from a direction no one would expect. We can take their forces by surprise, from the rear."

He tapped the Epsilon Indi star, causing it to magnify to show the entire system. Four planets revolved around the star. "We know they have the two wormholes leading into our space heavily guarded as well as Tellus. The forces on their wormhole are not as heavy, half the size of the ones on the other two. The other three planets have atmospheres neither one of our races tolerate, so I doubt there will be any heavy resistance at any of them except from weapons platforms in orbit and satellites."

For the first time since he had started laying out his plan, Silver spoke. "What kind of forces are you looking at sending in, Ty?"

He glanced over at her, sitting to the side of the desk, a scotch in her hand. Meeting her gaze levelly, he answered, "Thirteen carriers, stuffed to the gills with fighter squadrons, two to three times their normal compliment. Sixty-five destroyers, though fifty should work, and fifty-five battleships. It won't work with less than forty-five of those. Plus twelve transports to carry the ground troops, all seventy thousand of them."

"It's going to be Deimos all over again, Ty." Her jaw tightened and she gripped her tumbler tightly.

McQueen shook his head. "No," he said decisively. "Yes, we are going to lose troops. Yes, we are going to lose ships. But I'm confident we can take the system. Especially if once the forces on the two wormholes are successfully engaged, we send probes through those wormholes and more of our forces come through. We can catch them between two forces. Three if you count each wormhole separately. Another task force will have to take out the Chig wormhole's force and be prepared for any forces that come through it."

"You really think this will work."

"I do, Glen. We send the fleet components with other ships to this system." He tapped a star system less than five light years from Epsilon Indi with three wormholes the allied forces used constantly, Ross 154. "When a wormhole is activated by the other ships, the fleet component ships use the energy given off by the wormhole to start their journey to here." He pointed to a spot about half way between the two systems. "Once the fleet is assembled, we continue on."

"Ty, no one justs crosses interstellar space anymore. That's why we use the wormholes. We get there faster." Ross chewed on his cigar vigorously.

"I know. The Chigs are the same way. I'm hoping it'll take them by surprise too."

"If we pull this off, Ty, they'll have to promote you."

"If we fail, we won't have to worry about being court-martialed." McQueen gave his friend a quick smile. "But, we're not going to fail."

"If we should fail, Ty, we'll have weakened the allied forces enough that Earth could fall." From her seat, Silver set her half full tumbler on the desk.

He answered her quietly. "I know. It's a gamble, but if we win, we take back this system and then _we_ can fortify it against the Chigs. In addition, we'll have taken out a huge chunk of their forces, bloodying their noses and damaging their morale." McQueen folded his arms. "Well?"

"I'll send it over to General MacIntyre."

"I'm sure he'll make sure it gets vetted to the right people. If we're lucky, they'll approve it." McQueen took his own seat.

"You know, Ty, you really amaze me." Ross settled back into his chair, shifting the cigar to the other side of his mouth. "You have so much military knowledge in that thick skull of yours, it astounds me. I've always enjoyed watching you pull some obscure battle out and use it as an example for whatever we're facing." Ross leaned forward, tapping the papers on the desk. "This is a prime example of the Ty I know. The man the experts come to, hoping for validation of their plans."

McQueen stared down at his hands. "Glen, I'm not a miracle worker."

"But you have the ability to pull it all together and say whether it will work or not. To look at something, and, even knowing the potential losses, say do it. Deimos and Ixion proved that."

A shudder coursed through McQueen at the memory of the hellish decision he had made. "And I'm doing it again, with them and us."

"That's why I'll back your plan, Ty. Because you're willing to go through with it yourself."

McQueen nodded. "Then we just have to wait for the word."

"Ty, did you eat before coming here?" Silver gazed at her husband, a slight smile at the corner of her mouth.

"Um... no," confessed McQueen.

"Then let's get you something to eat and some more sleep. You can resume regular duty in the morning." She stood up.

"Resume regular duty?" Ross looked from one to the other. "What am I missing here?"

"I relieved him of active duty until he got this mess out of his system." Silver touched McQueen's arm lightly. "It's gone. I can feel it."

"I'll pretend I didn't hear this." Waving toward the door, Ross said, "Take him, feed him and put him to bed. I'll straighten this up and prepare it for a courier boat."

"Yes, sir."

The twinkle in Silver's eyes told Ross she was more than willing to follow the order. The door shut behind the two colonels and Ross sighed, looking over at the papers and charts. He was about to put their careers on the line and their lives if the plan was accepted. Only total victory could save them. As he gathered the papers and charts together, he wondered how the squadron would react on hearing the news. First, though, he had to get it approved.

In their quarters, Silver pushed McQueen toward the shower. "Go on. A nice hot one."

"But-"

"I know, you took one earlier. I'm giving you a massage, love, a massage for those neck and shoulder muscles that are ready to snap, they're so tight." She walked over to her dresser and opened the top drawer, taking out a bottle of lightly scented massage oil.

"I'm going, I'm going," laughed McQueen, more than willing to let her work him over. If he could manage to stay awake, maybe they could do something more... fun.


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter Eleven - 2 Souls Bound Page 27

Disclaimer: The names of all 'Space: Above and Beyond' characters contained herein are the property of Glen Morgan and James Wong, Hard Eight Productions and the Fox Broadcasting Network. These names have been used without their permission. All else is my own creation.

Rating: NC17 Language, violence and graphic sex.

Spoilers: None

Warning: Sex, Language.

Author: Vasalysa, with many undying thanks to Geek.

E-Mail: 

2 Souls Bound

Chapter Eleven

The next three weeks went by in a rush for McQueen.

At one point, Williams inconvenienced everyone by insisting on working on the gravity generators in the middle of the day shift. The man's arrogance infuriated many. Because McQueen refused to let Williams intimidate him, he ended up dealing with the engineer rather than Ross. The enforced time with the man left McQueen with a sense of respect for Williams, even if he didn't like the man personally. He had to grant that Williams knew his stuff and refused to allow anyone to tell him how to do his job, not even a commodore.

The 5-8 continued working with both the 79th and the 138th squadrons, both in simulators and in space. Terrilli had lost the brittle edge and appeared in control of himself, but McQueen judged Terrilli's mental well-being by the fact that Monty started bunking with the rest of the squad instead of sleeping on Terrilli's floor. Monty's health improved with the softer bed. The remainder of the 138th flew the simulated missions eagerly and were obviously in fine mettle. Toward the end of the second week, Griffon left on business of his own and told both McQueen and Silver that Terrilli should be fine for several months. He would check in with Terrilli from time to time.

By the time Griffon left, the 79th was up to snuff, able to take on the 58th, the 64th and the 138th squadrons individually in the simulators. McQueen found nothing to hold against the 79th as they shaped up, Williamson appearing to have decided that the way to get his people into high gear was to be firm but not harsh. He never raised his voice to them that McQueen, Silver or Terrilli heard and he always was ready with a joke or a interesting tale.

The 15th Fleet had finally shaken the dust of the Dicte system when Ross summoned both colonels to his office in the middle of the day shift. Exchanging intrigued looks at the summons, they trotted out of the gym, leaving the squad behind.

Ross sat behind his desk, looking at a foot square and only four inch tall package before him. He pushed it over toward McQueen. "Open it, Ty."

"Sir?" McQueen glanced at the box. It was addressed to both him and Ross. The return address had already been removed. "What is it?"

"Just open it, Ty. I'm dying from curiosity."

Slowly McQueen obeyed. On top inside lay two envelopes, one a large manila and the other a small white one with 'MCQUEEN' printed boldly on it. He picked up the smaller envelope and opened it, pulling out the single folded sheet of paper. Quietly he read it out loud.

"I sold them on it, McQueen. Now it is up to you to pull it off. Everything you requested and then some has been allocated to your endeavor. Commodore Ross is Top Dog for this operation. We need a major victory for our forces soon. Or else SHE is going to start pushing for another peace treaty. We have no objections to a peace treaty, just not when we're on the losing side.

MacIntyre."

Looking up at Ross, McQueen said, "So we're on." His eyes glowed up with excitement.

"Let me see that letter, Ty."

After handing the letter to Ross, McQueen started taking things from the package, setting the discs aside until he had reviewed the important information first. From the manila envelope he took the overall mission objectives and lists. About to set the first page aside as the usual info on who saw it and so forth, a location jumped out at him. Earth. Reading it carefully, he found that MacIntyre had personally taken his plan to Earth and placed it before the majority of the Allied Joint Chiefs. The only ones not on the list were the three with ties to AeroTech. Speechless, McQueen stared at the paper, then flipped to the final sheet. There were the signatures of all eight men and women.

Speechless, McQueen handed the page to Silver, asking her with his eyes to tell him he wasn't imagining the names. She read it quickly and nodded, giving the page to Ross next.

"Dear God, Ty! You've got them all behind you." Ross shook his head in disbelief. "We better pull this off, Ty."

"We will, we will." McQueen turned it into an almost chant.

Ross activated his intercom. "Bridge."

"Bridge, Lt. Crowe."

"Ross here. Tell the 5-8 that they're on their own for the rest of the day."

"Yes, sir."

Shutting off the intercom, Ross raised an eyebrow. "Anyone else hear that eagerness?"

Silver nodded. "No doubt scuttlebutt is already spreading the rumors."

With a grin, Ross summoned his steward. Once the sergeant arrived, he said, "Briggs, three scotches." He waved a hand. "Yes, I know, I never drink in my office, but this is a special occasion."

"Yes, sir."

A moment later, the steward had placed the three scotches on the table.

Once the door closed behind Briggs, Ross asked, "All right, Ty. What the hell did they name it?" He handed out the other two scotches.

Shaking his head, McQueen answered, "Pop Goes the Weasel. Can you believe it?"

Chuckling, Ross answered, "Oh, yes, I can. Very clever. Ok, here's to Pop."

They toasted the plan and settled down to reviewing the information.

****

All three had retired to Ross' quarters where Briggs had served them dinner. Wearily McQueen accepted a scotch from Silver, who sat down beside him with her own scotch. "It's going to work, Glen. It really is."

"It better, Ty." Ross sat back in his chair, taking a sip from his grog. "They gave you more than you asked for. An extra carrier which means we'll have a full third of the carriers in service. Including the Eisenhower A. Hell this will be it's shake down cruise. What a way to learn if everything works as designed."

"Not going to be fun for the Eisenhower's crew, but I'm more worried about communications." Silver leaned forward, elbows on knees. "We're going to have four of our own carriers, two English, and one apiece from Russia, China, Germany and Africa., and God help us, four French carriers. You know how they hate having to work with us."

"I want to know where the hell the Africans scrapped up a crew and a ship from." Ross shook his head in disbelief.

"From the same places they've been getting the support ships and crews." McQueen sighed and rolled his shoulders.

A sip of grog and Ross asked, "Ty, have you thought of how we're going to fit nearly six hundred fighters plus their pilots on each carrier?" Ross shook his head.

"I don't know, but we'll figure it out. Squadrons will have to share their quarters."

"With two or three other squadrons?"

"It's only for a month, at most."

"Listen to him, Lysa. Only a month, he says. We'll have people killing one another off within a week."

She smiled and drank some of her scotch.

"Glen, we'll worry about that in a bit. Right now, I just want to savor the sensation that we're in charge of one of the largest military engagements of the war."

"I hate to inflate your ego, buddy, but it _is_ the largest, Ty. We've got more power here than Round Hammer. Have you looked at the ships and personnel they've given us?"

McQueen winced. "Not yet. I wasn't sure I wanted to know how badly they screwed up my list."

"I did," Silver said quietly. "While you were checking over the general plan. We've got a few older carriers, but they're still powerful. The French gave us their newest carrier, the Richelieu. It's only two years old compared to the other three which range from five to six years old. Given the French's attitudes the last sixty years, I'm sure all four will be in the thick of it. Especially with Jean-Paul Chenevert leading their contingent."

A look of horror crossed Ross' face. "Don't tell me the French released that devil on us. The man's a menace to everyone around him."

"The Richelieu is his command and has been for six months."

"He'll want the front line." A shiver went down Ross' spine.

"He can have it," stated McQueen. "We'll let him talk us into allowing him to lead the forces attacking the first wormhole." McQueen sipped his scotch.

"And the second?" asked Silver.

"Ben 'B.B.' Bower."

"Let me guess. The 'Toga gets Tellus?" When McQueen nodded, Ross sighed heavily. "Where's the 5-8 in all this?"

"The same as the rest of the Tellus fighters. First air support, then ground work."

"It's going to be rough," noted Silver.

"I know." McQueen knew there was an excellent chance he could lose some or all of his 'kids' on this slim chance of striking back at the Chigs. If any of them made it back alive, he would be eternally grateful to the guardian angels that have surely been looking out for his squad over the years. The odds were going to be bad, especially since the Chigs and AIs had the advantage of knowing the terrain.

As he sipped his scotch, McQueen stilled as he realized something. "West."

"What about him?"

McQueen looked at Silver. "He was supposed to be a Tellus colonist."

Grinning, she said, "Any ideas he can give us would put us that much further ahead."

"He might also know people and how to get information, like maps." Ross nodded sagely.

"I'll talk to him about it before going to bed. He's going to need some way to contact these people though, Glen."

"You just want to burn up the space waves, Ty." Ross laughed. "Not a problem. He can start using the lines at 1500 tomorrow."

"That will help."

"You've forgotten one thing, though, Ty," Silver said softly.

A look of guilt crossed McQueen's face. "No I haven't. I've just been avoiding it. I didn't put it in, not specifically. I didn't want that on my conscience, Lysa. I merely mentioned that it would be helpful."

"I'd say you and Mac think quite a bit alike and you both know what needs to be done." She reached over to stroke his pale cheek. "He made the hard decision for you, as you wanted, love."

"I didn't want-" His hot protest stuttered to a stop under her calm gaze. "You're right, I guess. I couldn't make myself do it. I couldn't be the one to send you on that mission."

"I know."

McQueen's shame grew as he felt her love and understanding. "Dammit, Lysa, I can send my kids on an extremely dangerous mission, knowing they might not come back, and I can't send you on a .... a...."

"Possible suicide mission," she finished for him frankly. "It's ok, Ty."

"Not it's not." He shook his head violently. "Are you telling me you're accepting the mission?" He held her gaze desperately.

"I haven't decided yet. You're normally given twenty-four hours from the time of formal notification of the mission. I'll consider this the formal notice." She caressed his cheek. "Now, why don't you go ask West to rack his brain about the people who might be able to give us an edge on Tellus?"

"Don't sidetrack me, Lysa."

"I'm not. I have to think about it, then I'll talk it over with my husband. Not with my CO, or the military man, but my husband." She held his eyes and smiled gently. "Go on. We'll meet in our quarters shortly."

McQueen hesitated, downed his scotch in one gulp and nodded once. He rose, setting the tumbler down hard and strode out of the room.

As the door shut behind McQueen, Ross asked in a low, concerned voice, "Are you sure about this, Lysa? You don't have to do it."

"I haven't said I was, now have I?"

"All three of us know you're going to do it. Why the act? Why the fiction of asking him?"

"It's not an act, Glen. I need to talk to him about this."

"Why?"

She tossed back the last of her scotch. "Glen, he has to be able to deal with it. What happens if he can't? And don't you tell me right off that he can. Think about it. What will happen if he really can't handle my taking the mission?"

Eyes grave and face drawn, Ross did as she asked, speaking his thoughts aloud. "He'll be distracted, unable to concentrate. He won't be able to do the job."

"Right. So, if I can't sooth his fears, calm him, get him to accept it, then there's no way I'm going to take the mission. It would jeopardize everything and everyone. I will have to pass and someone else, not as well qualified, will have to take the job."

"That's a helluva burden to lay on him and yourself."

"I know. Now, if you don't mind, I think I better get him in a decent frame of mind for this talk." She stood up, setting the empty tumbler down on the bar. "Glen, I'd like the next two hours interruption free if possible."

"I'll arrange it. But I can't speak for the Chigs."

"That's a risk I'll have to take." She leaned over and brushed his forehead with her lips. "You're a good man, Glen. Thanks."

Putting his glass down, Ross watched her leave before reaching over for Rosalyn.

Pausing outside the commodore's quarters a moment later, Briggs smiled on hearing the familiar strains of the blues.

****

McQueen paused outside the barracks, listening for voices. Waking West up just to tell him to work seemed a bit cruel, but he could hear three or four voices talking lowly. He knocked twice and opened the door.

"Sir?" Vansen looked up at him.

"I have a task for West." He looked over at the young man. "Do you remember anything about Tellus, West? Anything that might help us take it back?"

"We're going to Tellus?" West's eyes widened. "I should still have some maps, especially of the area we were initially going to start the colony."

"Bring whatever you have to the briefing room 0900 tomorrow. I want to take a look at them. Can you think of anyone you can contact who could get their hands on in-depth maps? The kind that show right down to bedrock. I want to be able to pick out where to expect heavy resistance."

"I know of a few people I can get in touch with, sir, but it'll be awhile through the mail."

"Find out their vid numbers if you have to, West. The military's footing the bill. Tomorrow at 1500, you start calling. Your authorization will be waiting. I want all information coded and sent via transport within twenty-four hours."

"Yes, sir."

McQueen could see the wheels working in West's head. He looked at the others. "As for the rest of you, if you can come up with a way we can store triple the number of fighters on board and still launch them effectively, I need to know. In addition, you will be bunking with up to another two squadrons in here. So, figure out how to make it work."

"Two squadrons?" Wang shook his head from where the table where he was playing solitaire. "Tighter water rationing?"

With a shrug, McQueen said, "Still working out the details. Thought you might appreciate the warning."

"Yes, sir." Vansen got to her feet. "Then we're going in."

McQueen nodded. "We're going in. It'll be a knock-down, drag-out fight."

"We can handle that."

"Don't tell anyone. This is compartmentalized Code Red right now. Soon enough the rest of the ship will know."

"Yes, sir. We understand." Vansen gave her crew a quick look. "Anything else, sir?"

"No. Good night."

"Good night, sir."

****

Entering their quarters, McQueen heard the shower turning off and shook his head briefly. She would take him however she found him, but she enjoyed having him absolutely clean.

"Clean up, would you, Ty?"

"Putting me in the mood."

"Yes," she acknowledged, rubbing her hair dry.

"All right."

He showered quickly but thoroughly, stepping out with a sense of arousal from the need and want he could feel from her. His towel swipes were half-hearted and he flung the towel over the railing.

Stretched out on the bed, she waited for him. She patted the bed beside her and he eagerly lay down, sliding his hand up her side and kissing her.

She returned his kiss and caressed his jaw. "Love, for the next two hours, nothing exists outside this room. We're going to forget the war, the Chigs, the ship's crew, everything. Ok?"

Slowly he answered, "Yes." Her hand stroked down from the back of his his head to his navel, sending fire through him, and he repeated it more forcefully. "Yes." She brushed his navel again and he reveled in the flames being fanned.

He rolled her onto her back and started paying serious attention to her throat and jaw. The feel of her hands in his hair, digging in gently, sent a shiver through him, making him kiss and nibble his way back down to her breasts. He reached down, sliding his fingers between her legs, and felt how ready she was, pleased to find that she was as turned on as he was. She thrust onto his fingers as he teased her with them and he rubbed his thumb over her hard nub making her moan and dig her fingers into his scalp.

Setting a fast pace with his fingers, making sure to find that one spot that sent shudders through her, he sucked on a breast. She climaxed quickly, muscles tightening around his fingers. The sensation made him want to plunge into her, to have her surrounding him and he angled himself for entry.

In a teasing tone, she said, "Come on, Marine. Get your act in gear."

Willingly he obliged, driving himself hard and fast. Every thrust she met, allowing herself to be totally abandoned, and he felt her build to her second climax. She clutched his shoulders as she came and with a soft cry of satisfaction he followed.

Rolled onto his back, he realized that she was still riding him, getting his body to respond.

"What do you think this is, Colonel? A rest break?" Grinning, she rubbed his nipples, gently tweaking one. "Get moving."

"Yes, ma'am."

Again and again, she rode him or watched him over her as she eagerly met his thrusts, her fingers keeping him hard and flame ridden with deft touches to his navel. The point came where the only reason he kept going was the exquisite way her mouth and tongue worked his navel. Under him, she took his fire driven thrusts and laughed into his navel, sending vibrations through him. He came violently, shuddering so hard he thought his bones would break, and collapsed, eyes closed, nearly unconscious.

She pushed him onto his back and he shivered as she let him slide free. Her mouth sucked and licked clean his deflating shaft.

"I hope there's no more performances on the schedule." He dragged an arm over his eyes.

"No. I think I've achieved what I set out to do."

"Oh, and what was that?"

"To get you to relax and lose the guilt."

"Any more relaxed and I'd be oozing to the bathroom." He heard her chuckle and said, "Well, I'm glad one of us appreciates it." Her hand slapped him on the thigh and he said, with a chuckle, "I did as well. I just hope I can sleep tonight."

"You will."

"You sound positive about that. Why?"

She shook her head. "Just do." Snuggling down next to him, she settled her head on his shoulder. "Now it is time to talk, my husband."

"I know." His fingers twined in her hair and he started slowly combing his fingers through the dark strands. "I don't want you to go, Lysa. The absolutely selfish part of me that I didn't know I had doesn't want you to take this mission."

"Because I might not make it?" She soothingly stroked his smooth abdomen.

"Mostly." He took a deep breath. "I don't want to lose you, not now. I'm still getting used to having you around."

"And I you." She kissed his cheek and jaw. "But we both have our duties to do. You did not make the request. Mac did. There are those who would say I should consider only the military side of things. I refuse to. This effects us both. So, we'll decide together. As husband and wife."

Over two hours of talking, sometimes vehemently, sometimes so softly their words barely reached each other's ears, the decision reached was set aside until the morning.

Sapphire eyes stared at the ceiling, their usual brilliance dulled with mental pain. He smiled sadly as she burrowed against his side, her arm across his scarred chest, hugging him tight. Every minute, no, every second, that remained had to be savored.

Sleep took a long time to come to their shared quarters.

****

Looking over at the usual table that McQueen and Silver used in the mornings, Ross knew they had talked the previous night and both were resolved to the decision. "May I join you?"

Silver nodded once.

"I take it, you've decided?"

"She's going. In three weeks, she leaves." McQueen's voice came across almost flat. Only long association allowed Ross to hear the pain behind the flatness.

"I'm sure it'll work out, Ty, Lysa."

"It will." Silver gave McQueen's arm a light pat. "It just takes some adjusting."

"Are you ok with this, Ty?" Worried, Ross gave his friend a concerned look.

"Yes!" Realizing he had answered more forcibly than he'd intended, McQueen managed a brief smile of apology and said, "I'm ok with the decision. We made it together last night after much talking. At the end of three weeks, she is taking a one way trip and will be relying on me to get through to her to pick her up. I will do my job."

Ross nodded once, realizing that McQueen would become totally focused on the mission if given the chance once Silver left. "We will be there to pick her up, Ty. We're a team, remember?"

"Yes, I know."

"We'll make it work out, Ty. Now, after breakfast, report to my office and we'll get started on notifying the necessary personnel about your plan."

"Yes, sir."

****

The next three weeks were hectic as fighter squadrons arrived on the Saratoga and left with fewer members than at their arrival. McQueen spent a lot of his time arranging the logistics and working out how to deceive any watchers as to the true intent of his gambit. Every day, he arranged for some private time with his wife, no matter how hectic the schedule. Each moment he savored, storing them as a means to survive after her leaving until her return to the Saratoga.

Midway through the hectic preparations for the monumental task ahead, Christmas occurred.

The entire celebration had an edge to it, McQueen thought, surveying the Officers' Mess where he, Silver, Ross and several other ranking officers had gathered for a few quiet minutes away from the lower ranks. Most of the rare laughter held a brittle sound that worried him. He sipped his turquiose colored drink, nose wrinkling at the harsh scent coming off it, but drank the engineering department's contribution to the festivities. It was better than the furniture polish that had been offered the previous year.

"Some day some decent hooch will come out of the engineers." Stopping at his side, Silver smiled and held out her own plastic cup of home brew. "It would help if they'd actually use something organic for the mash."

He nodded and finished off his drink. "Don't let it sit too long. It might eat through the plastic."

"Just think what it's doing to our insides." She tossed back the remnants of her drink and took both cups. They were set down on a nearby table before she slid her hand into the crook of his arm. "Are there any plans for the evening?"

Shaking his head, McQueen said, "Just need to check in with the squad. I told them all I intend to spend the evening with you. After all, it's our first Christmas together."

"Then by all means, let's check on the others."

Her smile warmed him and he let her steer him away from the gathering. At the doorway, Ross caught up with them. "McQueen, Silver."

"Commodore."

"I won't keep you long, but I wanted to say, Merry Christmas. May it be better than the last one." Ross held out a small brown paper wrapped package. "Go enjoy yourselves."

"Thank you, sir. Yours is in your quarters. We left it with Briggs." McQueen grinned.

"Should I be worried?"

McQueen laughed at the worry his friend projected. "You'll like it. Don't worry."

"I'll take you at your word then, Ty. Go on, enjoy yourselves."

"Night, Glen." McQueen gave Ross a genuine smile. "I'll see you later."

Walking to the elevator, McQueen squeezed the hand on his arm and gave a satisfied sigh. He knew what Ross would find on returned to his quarters. Ross' wife, Rhonda, had enlisted both himself and Silver in getting the present in place and set up. Ever since discovering that she was related to the vampires at the bachelor party for McQueen and Silver, Rhonda had been exploring her lost past and finding out things about herself. She refused to take any Remal or vampiric lovers, wanting to wait until her husband could meet anyone she became intimate with. In spite of that condition, she had increased her awareness of herself as a sexual being and wanted to share it with her husband. So, she had commissioned a holographic recording of herself doing a strip tease. It had taken some tricky programming on both Briggs' and his part to get the recording to trigger when Ross entered his quarters.

"Wonder if he suspects anything?" The elevator doors closed on the two.

Shaking his head, McQueen said, "No way. Not with Rhonda going through us. Her official present was a lovely collection of video recordings of her and the kids. There's nothing to even hint at what's she's going to hit him with."

"So, are you planning on helping him deal with the aftermath?"

"Would you mind?" He looked at her, half smiling.

"I should be jealous, you know, but I'm not. If I thought he'd be comfortable with my presence, I'd join you."

"Maybe." He spotted the plastic mistletoe someone had tacked to the ceiling of the elevator and pulled her close. Kissing her and holding her close to him was something he wanted to do all the time and this time he decided to hell with decorum regulations. He could always blame the mistletoe.

Her arms were wrapped around him when the doors opened. A polite cough proceeded the male voice saying, "Sorry to interrupt, sir, but..."

McQueen finished the kiss before raising his head to look at Major Williamson and fought down the urge to say something provoking. "The elevator is now yours." He led Silver past Williamson and the two female lieutenants from the major's squadron.

Once they were far enough away from the closing doors, Silver said, "You really don't like him, do you?"

"No, and I don't know why."

"I admit there is something about him. Something familiar, yet not. If I ever manage to figure it out-"

"You better let me know." McQueen shrugged, determined to get back in the mood. "Let's forget it for now."

"Fine by me."

In their quarters, McQueen walked straight to the small gold paper wrapped box he had placed on the dresser before dinner. His hand shook slightly as he held it out to her. "This is the first truly personal gift I've ever given anyone. Not even Glen or Amy received anything like this from me."

"I'm sure I will like it, Ty." Her hand holding onto the box with his, she turned his head toward her and kissed him "Shall I open it first or would you like to open yours?"

"Open it, please. The suspense is killing me." He pushed the box at her slightly, biting his lip.

"Ok, Ty."

Silver took the box and stepped over to the dresser. From the top drawer, she took a large book-sized box wrapped in silver paper and carried it over to the bed, setting the it on the night stand. "This one is yours."

She sat on the bed and looked up at him. "Come sit down beside me, Ty."

Nervously, he did so, hands clenched in his lap.

Before opening the box, she caressed his cheek lightly. "Ty, relax. It's supposed to be fun."

"I can't help it."

"Ok, I'll open it and relieve your tension."

The taped seams gave easily and Silver looked at him. "Did you wrap this, Ty?"

He shook his head. "Patrick did."

"Oh, the plot thickens. I thought I recognized his wrapping touches."

"He and your father helped me out. Since I wasn't able to get back to Earth."

The gold paper was carefully set aside, partially folded. "I just might keep that."

"You don't need to."

"It's sentimental, I know, but I just might."

She held the black velvet box in her hand and slowly lifted the lid. A two-inch long Celtic cross lay on the light blue lining, brilliant and clear green emerald slices set into the solid framework, outlining the design. Nearly a quarter inch thick, Celtic knotwork ran down the sides of the frame and a triple loop at the top encircled a chain of the same color as the frame.

Picking the necklace up and holding it to the light, Silver said, "Ty, it's beautiful."

"The chain and frame are made of platinum."

"It must have cost a small fortune, love."

His throat worked as he shook his head. "Not the way you think. The only money I had to lay out was to have the metal forged into the shapes I wanted and the emeralds cut." He reached out to gently touch the dangling cross. "Both the platinum and the emeralds I dug out of the ground with my own two hands. I realized that both were valuable and managed to scavange some small bits and pieces over my time on Draconis."

"Didn't the supervisors mind?"

A bitter laugh and he said, "When you're pulling emeralds the size of your fist out of the mines, who the hell cares about ones the size of your fingernail? The platinum wasn't as useful to the company as the other ores it was mixed in with, so there were scraps of it everywhere around the smelter. Sometimes late at night, I would sneak out and find little chunks of it, the size of tomato seeds, and stash them away."

"How did you get them away from Draconis?" She held the cross in her cupped palm and brushed the fingertips of her other hand over his cheek.

"Remember the cave-in that nearly killed me? And the Army saved me from death, despite the supervisors not wanting to look for me? Two others were close to the end of their so-called indenature. One, who was just a few months older than me and I had worked with several times, was allowed to return to the barracks. He knew where my stash was and brought it to the transport. I shared my meager treasure with him once we reached Earth. Once I knew what to do about securing it, I placed the platinum and emeralds in a safety deposit box."

"And you gave Father Power of Attorney over your effects and had him fetch them out of the box to give to Patrick. Oh, you are such a sneaky fellow."

Determined to bring him out of the past, Silver wrapped her arms around his neck and dragged him down beside her, stretching his lean body out next to her while she kissed him. He hesitated at first, then joined in whole-heartedly. Even as his hands started roaming her body, undoing her flight suit, Silver carefully set the necklace down on the night stand while sliding her other hand down the inside of his uniform to distract him.

When he came to rest a while later, his arms wrapped around her, head resting on her shoulder, McQueen sighed contentedly. He kissed her shoulder and nuzzled her ear, saying, "That was not how I planned it."

"But it was damn fun." She turned around and slid her hands up his back, enjoying the feel of his body. "I'm afraid that my present isn't nearly so exotic, love."

He chuckled deep in his throat. "Do you know how many presents I've actually gotten? I can count them on one hand. Glen knew I didn't like the pressure of having to try and find something for a person I hardly knew, so he made it an infrequent occasion. I treasure each and every one he's given me, but it's hard for me."

"I know, love. Now, enough. I want you to open your present."

McQueen reached over her to where she had left the box. He frowned slightly at the hefty weight of the thin box. He tore the paper slightly, but soon had the wooden box underneath exposed. His fingertips ran lovingly over the Japanese characters cut into the wood. Opening the box he smiled on seeing the five different colored ink blocks, two pairs of five brushes, a thick stack of practice papers, and over a dozen pieces of delicate rice paper tucked into their respective places. He picked up the carved seal stone and realized it was made of a solid piece of blue jade. Turning it over, he smiled again on seeing his initials carved into the stone, but with a decidedly Celtic look.

"A bit out of place, don't you think?" He ran his thumb over his initials.

"Not in the least. You should always stand out, Ty. No matter what you do." She kissed him on the cheek. "Do you like it?"

"Yes, very much."

"Good. I knew you had the mixing stones and the other things, so I wanted to concentrate on what would make it more personal."

"Damn but you're good to me. What did I ever do to deserve you? Hell, when you think about how I treated you, you should hate my guts." He closed the box with care and set it aside. "Why don't you, Lysa? I hurt you badly enough that you accepted a suicide mission to get away from me. How could you possibly still love me?" He reached up to lightly touch her cheek.

She looked into his questioning ice blue eyes and raised an eyebrow slightly. "I love you, Tyrus. I would rather die than not have you in my life. Haven't you figured that out yet? Or are you just being a slow learner?" Her smile broadened and she cupped his cheek. "How can I live without you in my life, loving me back? You are my life and always shall be."

Drawing her close, McQueen kissed her desperately, needing to show her the depth of his desire, need and feelings. She returned the kiss eagerly and he managed to set the box aside, out of the way.

He lay contented beside her some time later, running his fingers over her bare back as she snuggled into his side. "I love you."

"I never tire of hearing that." She kissed his shoulder muscles. "And I love you."

"I love hearing you say it. I never thought I would ever hear it said by a woman who truly meant it." He ran his fingers thru her hair, breathing in the strawberry scent. "I will do my best to be deserving of your love, Lysa."

"I know."

He sighed. "I should go to Glen. He'll be needing some relief about now."

"That he will." Silver laughed and sat up, looking down at him. "I'll be right here when you're finished."

"Hopefully we'll have some night left to enjoy." He sat up and kissed her before scrambling out of bed. "I'll be back as soon as I can."

She was sitting in a robe on the bed, a book in hand as he left. Two hours later, she looked up as he walked back into their quarters, grinning. "Is his problem taken care of?"

"Definitely. Rhonda will be pleased to hear how well the hologram worked." The door locked behind him, McQueen quickly shed his uniform and boots. "Now, where did we leave off?"

****

The moment McQueen had been dreading arrived. Two days before the Saratoga was to make its transition to the rendezvous point, he helped Silver get into her flight gear for the flight to Tellus. She would board the Eisenhower, already at the rendezvous, refuel and continue on. Knowing that she had no real torpedoes, having instead the six information torpedoes to speed through space to the invasion fleet, made him edgy, but they had both known she had to get through the lines without being seen to be effective.

Ross and the squad had spoken their farewells already and the docking crews were waiting outside the bay, giving them a few last moments together.

Kissing her desperately, McQueen wanted to keep her there beside him, but it was far too late. The information she would be sending them needed to be gotten and there was no one else for the job. "I love you," he whispered, his voice cracking.

"I love you." Softly, she kissed him back, letting him feel her love, bathing him in it, knowing how hard it was for both of them. "Don't be late."

"We'll be there."

A throat cleared behind them and McQueen closed his eyes. Reluctantly, he released his hold on her arms and took the hardest step he'd ever taken away from her. "Safe journey."

"You'll know if it's not." Somehow she managed a grin and tossed her head back, her hair swirling in the air to settle behind her. "Go on, Ty. But, please, don't get drunk."

"I won't." Knowing if he didn't leave now, he wouldn't, McQueen forced himself to turn and walk away. He gave Warrant Officer Rolland a nod and somehow managed to walk through the docking crew headed for her cockpit. By the time he reached the briefing room, she had vanished from sight, though not mind. He could feel her love and closed his eyes, leaning his head against the glass.

"Ty." Ross' soft voice reached him before he saw his friend's reflection in the glass.

"I'll be fine, Glen."

"I know you will. But I have some of her family's scotch in my quarters."

"Tonight, Glen. I promised not to get drunk."

"Good for you. But I'll help you dull the pain."

"Thanks." McQueen forced himself to take a deep breath. "Now, I have a scheduled gym workout with the squad."

"I'll see you at dinner then."

"1730?"

"Sounds good." Ross watched his friend walk out of the room, back ramrod straight, and sighed. The next several days would be trying for everyone associating with McQueen.

****

McQueen restricted himself to only three scotches that night, enough to dull the pain, but not get drunk on. Aware that his kids had been doing their best to keep him company all day and trying hard not to resent it, he felt glad to be out from under their continual vigilance. His friend had merely gestured with his chin toward the bar and continued strumming on Rosalyn.

The soothing strains, along with the alcohol, gradually eased the muscle tension and McQueen finally relaxed, allowing himself to reach along his bond with Silver. He could feel her pleasure and knew everything had proceeded as planned so far.

The time showed nearly midnight when McQueen rose. "I better be going, Glen."

"Night, Ty. Try to sleep. Better yet, try not to worry."

"That's the hard one, but I'll try. Night."

As he rode the elevator down, McQueen felt obscurely glad that he couldn't retreat to his old quarters. He had cleared out what personal stuff had been there, including his foot locker, so that three officers could bunk there during the operation. For now, he would use Silver's office for his own and try not to feel exceptionally lonely in their shared quarters. Ross had refused to have him sharing quarters with anyone else, stating that he needed the privacy in order to perform at peak efficiency.

He picked through the music and settled on some atmospheric water sounds to hopefully lull him to sleep. A hot shower and he hugged her pillow to him, breathing in her scent.

****

The time for the Saratoga's escape from the Ross 154 system arrived. As five freighters with their military escort activated the wormhole and started through, the Saratoga and six of the fifteen destroyers parted company with the convoy. On the Saratoga, Lieutenant Commander Douglas skimmed through the energy given off by the wormhole and pushed the engines hard, getting them far enough away that it appeared as though they had gone through the wormhole with the other ships. On Ross' order, all seven ships cut their engines, coasting at two thirds the speed of light. It would be nearly twenty hours before they dared to re-engage the engines and begin the forty-two hour trip.

McQueen and Ross exchanged looks on the bridge, hoping that they had managed to fool any enemy observers.

Neither left the bridge until the engines were engaged once more. They retired to the commodore's quarters for a single scotch in a tentative celebration. After listening to Ross play the guitar for a while, McQueen excused himself and strode through the corridors to his quarters, wanting to be by himself. He knew that the next day, both of them would be reviewing the information on the personalities involved in the operation. To keep himself from working, he had deliberately left it all in Silver's office. This night he intended to relax, listen to music and prepare himself mentally for the strife he knew would occur once they reached the rendezvous point.

In the shower, he hesitated for a second before taking Silver's strawberry scented shampoo and using it. The smell enveloped him and he felt tears of longing in his eyes. Under the running water, he let them fall for several minutes before pulling himself together and finishing his shower.

Bach's Brandenburg Concerto No. 3 played while he stretched out on the bed and let himself reach out to his wife. He could feel her concentration and contented himself with letting her feel his love, trying to keep his worry from sliding down to her. In return, he felt her love and pleasure. Hugging the feelings to himself, he closed his eyes.

****

A mixture of Hammerheads, Spitfires and Tornadoes greeted the Saratoga and her mini-fleet an hour out from the rendezvous point. Despite being pleased by the fact that Chenevert had organized the fighter screen, McQueen didn't like the way Chenevert greeted them on their arrival. A curt, "Good, about time you got here," did not sit well with him and he did not look forward to meeting the man in person.

Originally, McQueen and Ross had planned on meeting all the ships' commanders at once, but the English contingent would not be along for another thirty hours, having been detained by, of all things, the Secretary General demanding to talk to Commodore Nelson before he could take his small fleet out of orbit. Not daring to let on that they were part of any special operation, he had been forced to remain on station for nearly two days, putting him well behind schedule. Somehow he had managed to shave time off his transit time, getting a message to the Saratoga before her departure.

Fifteen hours after arriving at the rendezvous, a horde of transports descended on the Saratoga, bearing the top officers of each vessel for a semi-informal meeting. Both Ross and McQueen drank a single scotch to enable them to deal with the forceful personalities.

****

McQueen and Ross retreated to the commodore's quarters, grateful that Ross was one of the few officers not sharing his quarters. After pouring himself a grog, Ross downed over half of it and sat down. He picked up Rosalyn and started strumming, quickly sliding into a slow dirge, while McQueen got a single scotch and threw himself into a chair.

"Well, we made it through the first meeting." Ross didn't look up, merely started the dirge over.

"The insufferable boor. I could strangle Chenevert ," muttered McQueen. "The man has an ego the size of his ship."

"I think you handled him quite handily, Ty. Especially since he resented the fact that I appointed you the XO of this operation and not him."

Leaning forward and running his hand through his hair, McQueen groaned at the memory. "The man's English is atrocious and, when he gets mad, you can't understand a word he says. God, I'm glad I thought of summoning Hawkes for translation duty."

Ross chuckled and gave an evil grin. "I wouldn't have missed the look on Chenevert's face for anything when Hawkes stood up and started shouting him down, in French no less. Bet Hawkes never thought he'd get to use his French for anything useful."

"That's for sure. He definitely got a workout with it this evening. Fortunately, Commodore Khoklov speaks excellent English." McQueen sipped his scotch. "She was quite... polite."

"They don't call her the Ice Queen for nothing." Ross chuckled.

"Somehow, I thought it was something a little less nice," McQueen grinned, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "Seriously, she's good. I think she grasped the battle plan before most of the others."

Ross snorted and shook his head. "Except for Chenevert, of course. The way that man attempted to make everything his idea or his concept or his realization first. To think, he dared to suggest that he figured it out before Khoklov."

"Oh, yes, and that look she gave him, cutting him down to size." McQueen laughed, settling back into the chair. "I'm thinking of having her take Wormhole 2. What do you think?"

"I think she'll pull it off." Strumming some more, Ross said, "Too bad Bower fell down the stairs and broke his leg and gave himself a serious concussion. He would have been an excellent XO for Khoklov." He sighed. "I hope Commodore Nelson arrives on schedule. I want to get Chenevert headed out ASAP."

"They should be here by 1500 tomorrow. After the English get here, I've planned for Chenevert and Khoklov to head out by 2000 tomorrow." McQueen finished his scotch, thought about getting another one and regretfully set his tumbler down.

"You used to drink a lot more, Ty."

"I know, but I don't dare dull the edge. I'm going to need it to stay on top of all these personalities."

Ross looked over at McQueen. "Have you informed the squadron of their role in this mess?"

"No. Assuming that Hawkes hasn't blabbed it already, I thought I'd wait until the day before we hit the system."

"Give them less time to worry about it?" When McQueen nodded, Ross sighed. "They deserve to know, Ty. They can handle it."

"I know, but if I tell them, then I should inform all the squadrons."

"All right. The day before it is."

"I better go to bed. See you in the morning, Glen."

"Night, Ty."

****

The next morning when he didn't find him in the mess, Ross went looking for McQueen and found him standing in the observation room on Deck 5. The hundred and eighty degree view allowed them to see a good portion of the assembled fleet. The massive armada had already been divided according to their roles in the attack.

Forward and to the left sailed the four French carriers bracketing the single German carrier, Orion, a maneuver that showed off the building strategies of both nations. The French ships were efficient, but somehow they didn't strike one as deadly until they started firing back with their multitude of lasers. In contrast, the German vessel reminded McQueen of the old U-boats of WWII, sleek and deadly. The Germans built vicious ships, bristling with weaponry and he knew from its stats that the Orion had as many weapons on it as the Richelieu and one of the other French carriers combined. Stretched out behind the four carriers were the twenty-five destroyers and eighteen battleships assigned to that battle group.

On his right sat the single Russian ship, the Vladimir, its compliment of battleships and destroyers equal to the French. Bracketed by the smaller ships were the Chinese and African carriers as well as the Valley Forge and the Reagan.

Deliberately McQueen had kept the Eisenhower with the Saratoga's battle group, hoping to offset its new crew and untested weaponry with the more experienced crews of the 'Toga and the two English carriers. He knew without looking that the sixteen battleships and equal number of destroyers with his fleet were surrounding not the carriers but the fifteen fragile transport ships.

"Breathtaking isn't it, Ty?" Ross glanced from side to side, taking in the sight of the ships visible. "To think they're all under our command."

"Breathtaking, yes. Also terrifying." McQueen closed his eyes briefly, taking the time to breath deeply once. "All those lives I've committed to this. It's worse than Deimos."

Ross rested his hand on his friend's shoulder and squeezed lightly. "Ty, it's a damned good plan. If it wasn't, no way in hell would it have been approved. The Joint Chiefs committed all these people to it, more than you asked for, so they believe it will work. It's not just our group committed to this, you know. They've mustered two more task forces to wait on the other side of those wormholes, just itching for the word to come through."

"I know that, Glen, and that's what terrifies me. If we fail, if for some unknown, unforeseen reason, we don't pull this off, we'll have stripped away over a third of Earth's forces. In that case, I'm afraid that there won't be any history books to record our failure." He pressed his hand against the view port.

"Ty-"

"Don't worry, Glen. I'll project the right attitude to the troops." He gave his friend's worried reflection a quick smile. "I just need a chance to let the terror through."

"I understand, Ty. This is the biggest operation we've ever commanded. I'm afraid, too." Ross smiled back.

"If you weren't, I'd be worried, Glen."

"Same here."

"The one who worries me is Chenevert." McQueen shook his head. "Unfortunately, we don't dare not let him lead the French group, but he's so damn cocky and..." McQueen searched for the right word. "Arrogant. I have the uneasy feeling he's going in far too self-assured of victory and cost us dearly." He dropped his hand and clasped his hands behind his back.

Ross nodded. "I know, Ty. But we don't have a choice. The French will _not_ follow anyone else and he practically begged for the assignment, just like we figured."

"Drooling at the mouth is more like it." Rolling his shoulders, McQueen said, "Don't mind me, Glen. It's just pre-battle jitters."

"Well, we've received a radio transmission from the English. They'll be here ahead of schedule. 1300 hours. Somehow Nelson is managing to survive red-lining his engines. Wonder if he has an equivalent of Williams on board?" Ross grinned.

"Hey, don't you know? You never mess with the engineers." Giving the ships out the observation window a last glance, McQueen turned away. "Well, that gives us an extra two hours to look over anything they bring. Good."

"Now, let's go eat."

"You're on."

****

Despite McQueen's unvoiced worries about hitches, everything ran smoothly that day. The two wormhole battle groups split off from the planetary assault group and started circling around the Epsilon Indi system to reach the wormhole defenses. At a reduced speed, the Saratoga plowed onward toward the system, accompanied by its mini-fleet.

The next morning McQueen briefed the officers commanding the fighter squadrons throughout the Saratoga's fleet. Each officer received a computer pad on entering the hastily cleared out storage room. He met Vansen's eyes briefly before settling down into full command mode.

"Your fighter squadrons will have a two-fold assignment in this assault. First, you will provide suppression fire on the planet. You will not engage in space. Period. Not one shot is to be fired out of atmosphere. I know this is hard to ask of you and your squadrons, but we need you at the planet. You will have to trust the larger ships with keeping the Chig fighters off your backs. You have to reach your assigned areas. That is of paramount importance. Included with the data provided is your squadron's assigned area." He paused, allowing the officers to look over the information, and noticed Vansen glancing up at him, her eyes grave, and nodding slightly. When most of the officers were once more looking up at him, he continued. "The priorities for targets are all Chig fighters and their airfields. Once the fighters and their supporting bases have been destroyed, bomb and strafe all other facilities. The information gathered and relayed during your runs will be instrumental in assigning the ground forces their primary targets."

McQueen ran his eyes over the officers before him. Far too many appeared overly young to his eyes. "Secondly, when you have used all your ammunition and bombs, you will land at your assigned coordinates and revert to ground assault. Your targets will be downloaded to you from information gathered on your overflights." For a second, he paused, seeing the determined faces before him. "Any questions?"

A captain stood up. "Sir."

"Yes?"

"If we have used up our ammo, sir, how are we to fight our way back up to the carriers?"

McQueen heard the undercurrent of worried mutters. The moment of truth had arrived. "There will be no retreating from the surface. In fact, none of the forces involved in this operation have an avenue of retreat. The only way out is for us to win."

The room went completely quiet and still. Vansen rose. "Sir, the Wildcards request the honor of launching first."

He nodded, hearing the resigned sighs and the shuffling of feet resume. The tableau had been broken and pride filled him when no one stood up to request a way out. It didn't matter whose country they came from, they were fighting men and women. "The Joint Chiefs committed us to this endeavor, understanding the risks involved. Depending on how well our wormhole offensives go, more of our forces will come through the wormholes. We need to concentrate on our portion of the operation. We have to take the planet. Make your preparations tonight."

People started glancing through their information and he cleared his throat softly. As they looked up at him expectantly, he added, "From what information we have managed to gather about the Chig planetary installations, the majority of them are in the northern hemisphere which is currently in its winter phase. This means the weather is cold and wet. Make sure you access the information on your area and note the risk factor. Make sure your squads bring plenty of socks. Be prepared for the rain. Do not underestimate the resistance the Chigs will put up just because it is raining. We're going to be giving no quarter. The plan is to eliminate all Chigs and AIs on the planet."

"Ambitious, sir," remarked an English major.

"Yes, it is. The operation is to commence at 1100 tomorrow. The lead fighters will be launched at 1115. Anyone who causes delays will be ousted and relegated to last place. The docking crew chief on each ship will be posting the order of disembarking. Follow it. Good luck and dismissed." He turned his attention to the holo-vid of the planet behind him, hearing the officers behind him getting up, talking softly to one another.

"Sir."

He turned to face Vansen. "Yes, Captain?"

She paused, then said, "You gave us the area around the colony's original landing site."

"I thought West might appreciate it."

"Yes, sir." She smiled.

"Also, that's the area she's going to be in."

"We'll find her, sir."

"I know you will." He gave her a nod of dismissal and watched her leave. From all indications, the original colony landing site was heavily defended by the Chigs. Both the squad and the ground troops assigned to the area would have a tough time. It had taken a long time for him and Silver to decide who to commit to the air defense in that sector. It had been her idea to join the squadron there. He could only hope they all made it back.

****

At 1000 hours the following day, the Saratoga's fleet entered the Epsilon Indi system and the fighting began. Missiles and laser batteries pounded away at the Chig fighters and Hive ships, poking holes through the defenses for the fighter crafts to slip through. On schedule, wave after wave of Hammerheads, Spitfires and Tornadoes poured out of the carriers and battleships. First off the Saratoga flew the 58th, followed by the 64th, the 138th, and the 79th. Even as he sifting through the fighters' chatter, McQueen felt proud that not one of the three thousand fighters diverted from their flight plans to engage in space, leaving the massive Chig fighter wave to the big ships. In the Saratoga's war room, he bent over the table, waiting, listening for the words he needed to hear.

"'Toga Control, we are entering atmosphere."

At Vansen's calm words, McQueen closed his eyes briefly and sighed. Resolutely, he turned his attention to the work ahead. Before the huge space transport vessels could begin to unload their troops via a massive fleet of ISSAPCs, the Chig fighters needed to be thinned out significantly. Over two dozen ISSAPCs waited aboard the Saratoga with the two thousand enlisted Marine and Army personnel accompanied by support personnel for the fighters.

****

One hundred and seventy-six hours after the battle for the planet had begun, an additional three transports landed amid the wreckage of a major Chig air field. Men and women poured from the ships, carrying equipment. Within an hour a ground headquarters had been set up despite the pouring rain. Another transport landed two hours later and McQueen bounded out, heading straight for the headquarters, letting the medical headquarters get set up nearby.

"Any word?" he asked Major Norton, manning a radio.

"No, sir. Sorry, sir."

McQueen nodded. Communications with the 58th had ceased late on the second day. Other units had been destroyed or decimated by the Chigs, AIs, the terrain, or the weather. Most of them were accounted for. Some like the 58th had disappeared completely without a trace. Unfortunately, they had lost communications apparently before finding Silver. He knew she was alive and kicking. During the times he reached out toward her, he felt her pleasure at hunting. She was somewhere in the region that the squad had disappeared in, but there was no way to know if they had met up or not.

On the table, a comprehensive map of the surrounding terrain for five hundred miles in all directions showed the known positions of squadrons with blue dots. Enemy positions were marked in red. Blue outnumbered the red, barely. In space, the battle still raged, with Earth forces starting to come through the weakened defenses of the wormholes. The majority of the planetary assault ships he had already sent to help fight the wormhole defenses, leaving the Saratoga as the sole carrier in orbit with seven destroyers and three battleships from his original force.

It took an effort to not think about the roughly four thousand dead so far on the planet or the thousands more that had died in space. That he would have to do later. Now he had a job to do. "Get me the English 112th's CO. It's time to move them somewhere else."

****

Accepting a cup of coffee, McQueen raked his hand through his grimy hair and studied the map once more. Wearily he rubbed his eyes, feeling the last forty-eight hours on top of the previous one hundred and seventy-six. The ground forces were rolling forward, painstakingly slowly, taking out Chig and AI resistance.

"Sir, you should rest," risked Major Norton. Three hours earlier he had returned to duty after being ordered to take a nap by McQueen only to discover his superior hadn't left headquarters at all.

"There'll be time for resting later." McQueen smiled to himself, realizing he was rephrasing what he had told the preacher before going out to face Chiggy von Richthofen. He sighed, deciding that he needed to shift yet another squadron. "Wang, get me the German 27th squadron."

"Yes, sir." At the radio, Wang dialed in the requisite frequency. He had talked his way onto a transport the previous day and had expected to receive the full extent of McQueen's wrath. The colonel had merely looked at him and told him to make himself useful.

A moment later, a lieutenant burst through the door. "Sir, sir!"

Scowling, McQueen spun around.

"Sir! The 58th! They just arrived! They're in the medical headquarters."

McQueen hesitated, torn.

"Go on, sir. I can see what you're doing." Norton managed to hide a smile.

McQueen nodded and strode out the door.

"How the hell does he manage it?" Norton heard a captain mutter as the door swung shut behind McQueen. "He hasn't heard from them in a week. Yet he keeps on coordinating things."

"That's what makes him the colonel. He's got the tough job, sitting and waiting, hoping they make it back." Norton nodded toward the door. "Doing his job keeps his mind off the worry."

Wang cast a longing look at the doorway, but continued working. The colonel would let him know their status.

****

Barely keeping from running into the medical headquarters, McQueen desperately reined in his impatience and merely strode in.

A harried man glanced up at him and sighed. "You're clearly ambulatory. What's the ailment?"

"I'm looking for the 58th."

"Oh. They went that way." The man pointed wearily to his left. "Fourth room on the left."

His "Thank you," fell on deaf ears as the man turned to the next person through the door, a soldier clutching his bleeding arm.

Looking inside the indicated room, he saw three mud covered forms, one of which was female. Three nurses were busy stripping off the clothing on one of the men and it wasn't until the man looked up that he saw it was Hawkes. Slowly, he pushed the swinging door open and stepped inside.

"The colonel, Shane," muttered Hawkes.

The woman turned around and he saw the strained face of Vansen. "Sir, I was going to come see you once they finished looking us over." When she saw his eyes running over the three of them, seeing who was missing, she added, "Finch is showering. Like me, she has only cuts and bruises. Russell has broken ribs, Hawkes broken ribs and a broken arm." She took a deep breath. "I don't know where they are, sir. We took out the first of our objectives, a mining facility, and were headed for the second, the remains of an air field. That's when everything went wrong. First we were caught in a massive land slide, that's where most of the injuries occurred. 'Phousse had a concussion and a wrenched shoulder, West had cracked ribs. St. John had some nasty cuts. The receiver somehow continued working, but the transmitter was fried. We continued on toward our objective at the time. A flash flood hit us out of nowhere. We searched for hours, but couldn't find them. All we ever found was 'Phousse's pack. I intend to go back and keep on looking."

Hurting inside, McQueen shook his head. "We can't, not now. This sector is only barely secured."

"Sir-"

He risked touching her shoulder. "No."

She turned her head away with a strangled sob. When he pulled her to him, she resisted at first, then wrapped her arms around him, crying. "We searched and searched. We had no idea where we were for the longest time. Then we managed to triangulate on your signals and we headed in. It's been hell, sir." Unable to look him in the face, she said, "We never hooked up with her, sir."

Stroking her hair, McQueen sighed. "At least you're here. If they can, they'll get here. So will she. The Chigs can't keep her down." He let her go when she pushed away. "Once the area is secure, we'll send out SAR teams. They aren't the only ones missing. I suspect landslides have claimed a number of the squadrons."

She nodded, turning toward the back of the room as Finch entered, hair wet, clad in a hospital gown. "Russell, you're next."

One of the nurses left Hawkes and went to Finch, bandages in hand. She looked up at McQueen and said, "Sir, none of them are going anywhere for at least twelve hours. Including these Invitroes. At a bare minimum, they need to eat and sleep."

He nodded. "I understand, nurse. Is Doctor Jade available? She's the squadron's assigned doctor."

"She's in surgery. Every doctor is working the OR's. We'll let her know they're here and if she gets a chance, I'm sure she'll stop by." The nurse continued bandaging Finch.

Hawkes had been sponged clean and sedated by the time Russell returned. The two nurses were splinting the broken arm. "Go get clean, Shane," he said, maneuvering Russell to a chair.

He stepped over to look into Hawkes' face, the pain eased somewhat, as Vansen went to shower.

"We made sure the drugs were safe, colonel," mentioned the nearest nurse. "I'm afraid that we're going to have wait before we re-break the arm in order to set it properly, but we'll inject bone filler when we do. He'll be as good as new in a few weeks. But I'm afraid he's out of the action for now."

"And the others?"

"The young lady over there has multiple contusions, abrasions, a cracked rib on the left side, and infection has settled in several cuts. The infections are not serious, but they need treatment. The young man," she nodded to where the third nurse now worked on Russell, "is suffering from much the same thing, though he has four broken ribs, all on the right side. It's the same with the other woman. I think she has a couple of cracked ribs, but she refused to let me fully examine her."

"So you're telling me they are all out of the field."

"Yes, sir."

"When she gets out, go ahead and examine Vansen." He looked over at the other two squad members. "Russell, Finch, sit on her if necessary. But she's not to just walk out of here. None of you are to leave until you've been cleared."

"Yes, sir." He heard the weary gratefulness of their replies.

To the nurse, he said, "When they are cleared, send them to the command headquarters. I'll find suitable work for them there and it'll free up room for those who need it."

"Thank you, colonel. I've known men who would order them back into combat, no matter the injuries."

"The fight may come here, nurse. I'd rather they were out there where they can do some good. Don't worry about it, though, that's my job."

"I hope the others show up, sir."

"Thank you."

Still troubled, McQueen returned to the command headquarters. A glance at the map revealed that Norton had indeed worked out his intended plan. He walked over to Wang and said quietly, "Half the squad is still missing. Vansen, Hawkes, Finch and Russell made it in. They're in no condition to return to the field. They'll be reporting here once the medics release them."

"Yes, sir."

Feeling tired, McQueen struggled to turn his attention to the map.

"Sir."

"Yes, Major?"

"It's going to be several hours before anything happens. Why don't you go get some rest and something to eat?"

Starting to shake his head, McQueen imagined Silver's voice telling him off. "Very well. I will return in four hours."

Norton stopped him by the door and asked in a low voice, "Sir, the 58th?"

"Four are MIA."

"I'm sorry, sir. I hope they show up."

"So do I."

****

Fifty hours later, word arrived that the Chig forces on Wormhole Two had been destroyed. A cheer went up from the encampment and the radio operators hurriedly passed the news on to the troops.

"Sir."

He took the coffee that Vansen handed him with a nod. "Soon." His eyes traveled to the sector he had sent two other squadrons into, finishing up the 58th's objectives. Still no word on his missing squad members, though he knew Silver remained at large.

"Yes, sir."

"I know you want to go in, Vansen, but you're in no shape for the trek."

"We could take a transport."

Shaking his head, he said, "No. There are too many Chigs and AIs out there. I can't risk more lives just to search."

"But the 74th-"

"The 74th, 33rd, and 92nd were pinned down and unable to retreat due to terrain changes. I sent two transports and a fighter squadron and still nearly lost all three squadrons plus their rescuers. Only the weather suddenly turning worse saved any of them. No, Shane, I'm not risking lives for a mere four missing. That's my call."

"Yes, sir."


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter Twelve - 2 Souls Bound Page 20

Disclaimer: The names of all 'Space: Above and Beyond' characters contained herein are the property of Glen Morgan and James Wong, Hard Eight Productions and the Fox Broadcasting Network. These names have been used without their permission. All else is my own creation.

Rating: NC17 Language, violence and graphic sex.

Spoilers: None

Warning: Sex, Language.

Author: Vasalysa, with many undying thanks to Geek.

E-Mail: 

2 Souls Bound

Chapter Twelve

Word arrived nearly twenty hours later at the ground forces headquarters that the Chig forces on the second wormhole were demolished. Cheers made the rounds once more.

McQueen sagged in his chair beside the map table, head in his hands, exhaustion pulling at him, the news not even making him look up. What brought his head up was the faint scream of someone in a nearby grounded transport. "Incoming!"

"Get the fighters in the air!" he bellowed, jumping to his feet, reacting on his intuition. For just a second, everyone in the room stared at him, then Vansen bolted for the door, her face pale. The air raid siren screamed over the cheers which died abruptly.

McQueen snapped, "Hawkes, sit!" without looking at the young Invitro. He grabbed two headsets and tossed them to Finch and Russell. "Get to the LIDAR transport. Tell me what I need to know." Turning to Norton, he said, "How many fighters can we get in the air?" A supply transport, carrying ammunition for some of the fighters, had landed an hour earlier.

"I'll let you know, sir." Norton started dialing in a code.

"Sir!"

"No, Hawkes." He turned and gestured to the splinted arm. "You can't fly. If it weren't for the fact that the doctors need the room, you'd still be in a bed. That arm still needs fixing, but they just don't have the time or resources at the moment to do it."

Hawkes slumped, sinking back down into his chair. "But sir, I just can't sit here."

"Got your pistol?" McQueen unholstered his pistol, checked its clip and tucked it back into place, double checking by patting pockets to make sure he had the spare three clips. "I need you to stay with Wang. He can shoot, but hand to hand will be difficult for him as well. Together, the pair of you have a chance."

"Yes, sir." Hawkes rose and strode over to where Wang stood, checking his pistol.

Vansen ran back in, somehow managing to carry six rifles in hand. She tossed one each to McQueen, Hawkes and Wang. At McQueen's nod to Norton, she gave the man one and dumped an entire ammo bag of clips on the table. The last rifle she handed to a captain.

Tucking seven clips into his pockets, McQueen said, "Listen up. Until we know what's coming in, I want everyone inside."

"Sir, thirty-fighters are in the air. Five more will be in three mikes." Norton started checking his rifle.

Russell's voice sounded in McQueen's ear through the headset and he held out a hand, silencing everyone so he could hear. "Sir, it looks like seventy fighters, three bombers, and seven transports. They know exactly where we are. They'll be here in four mikes, from the northeast."

"Get your gear."

"Yes, sir."

Looking over at Norton, he said, "We have four mikes. Seventy fighters, three bombers, and seven transports. From the northeast. Arrange the digging in."

"Yes, sir. Damn, but I want to know where the hell this rabbit of theirs came from." Norton ran out of the makeshift building.

"Vansen, Hawkes, Wang, get to the medics. Tell them to evacuate as many as possible. Stay with them. Get more rifles and distribute them to anyone able to shoot."

"Yes, sir."

Russell and Finch trotted in a minute later. He nodded once to them and swept the room with his hard, flinty eyes. Clipped and harsh, his voice filled the tent. "Everyone out. Take radios and headsets. Keep in touch. We're all there is between the Chigs and a thousand wounded men and women. Move."

****

The screams of dying men and Chigs filled the air as McQueen stumbled over yet another bloody body. He sank to his knees in the mud, keeping his empty rifle in hand, scanning the nearby area. Four men fought against six Chigs to his right and he lurched to his feet to help out.

The sixth Chig collapsed and he saw two of the men sink to the ground, one holding the other. With a start, McQueen realized Monty supported Terrilli. "Anton? Monty?"

"He's barely alive, Colonel," answered Monty, his voice thick with pain. "Took a damn Chig knife under the ribs."

"But he can-"

"No, I can't," gasped Terrilli. "Too much damage, Ty." Blood dribbled from his mouth as he spoke. "Tell Lysa I'm sorry about everything." He reached out and took McQueen's hand. A wry smile touched his bloodied lips. "I should have known. It was you, Ty."

"It was me what?" McQueen glanced at his cut and bloody hand.

"Yours was one of the hands in my vision." Blood flowed faster as Terrilli coughed and he clutched Monty's hand with his other, sighing softly. "And you're the other one, Monty. You know what to send home."

Another cough racked Terrilli and McQueen saw the all-to-familiar slackness enter the man's body. "Damn," he said, quietly before getting to his feet. "Move him to a sheltered spot. We'll get back to him later. We've still got a lot of Chigs to fight off."

Monty led the rest of the 138th into the midst of the fighting a moment later.

Staring down briefly at the dead man and Remal, McQueen felt a sense of loss and turned his eyes to the fighting that remained.

****

Leaning his back against the remains of a quonson hut wall, McQueen clenched his jaw and gritted his teeth as the medic started pulling shrapnel from his right leg. In his mind's eye, he reviewed the three and a half hour battle, ignoring the young man kneeling before him. Another three hundred dead and six or seven hundred more wounded or injured again. The Chigs' last ditch effort had almost succeeded. Somehow, his meager air force had kept the Chig fighters at bay, at a terrible cost. Not one of his forty fighters had survived to land again. Three transport pilots had rammed their empty ships into the Chig bombers.

The ensuing ground battle had been just as savage. How the hell the Chigs managed to fit so many soldiers into those seven transports still amazed him. It had to have been standing room only. He would swear there had been at least seventy-five per transport, plus the ship's guns. The transports had lifted off and started strafing his airfields until someone had found a cache of SAMs and blew them out of the sky, but over a quarter of the parked fighters were damaged before that happened.

"Colonel, this one's deep, don't move," cautioned the young medic.

Closing his eyes, McQueen relived the carnage, seeing the Chigs sweeping over the hastily thrown up defenses. A great many men and women had died heroically in the short time just past. He had seen soldiers who could barely stand propping themselves up to fire on the advancing Chigs and others throwing themselves physically at the Chigs in a hope of slowing down the enemy. The Chigs had been relentless and ruthless, somehow knowing there would be no mercy from the human forces. Chig grenades had reduced the small group of buildings to rubble. One such grenade had caused his own wounds and he grimaced at the memory of fighting hand to hand.

"I'm doing my best here, sir."

"What?" McQueen shook his head at the medic. "Wasn't you, son. Just memories."

"Was pretty hairy there for awhile, sir."

Hairy wasn't the half of it, McQueen knew. Too many men and women would be losing their arms or legs because of the damn Chig hacking weapons. Most of the ammo brought down that morning had been sent out to the field troops, leaving the camp with a extremely finite amount of ammunition. He had figured on getting the next resupply ship from the Saratoga before the Chigs attacked the base, but that ship wasn't due for... He glanced at his timepiece, another two hours.

The wind changed direction and rain slid down his face. He flung his head back, letting it wash the blood off his face, some his own and some from some poor bastard he'd never even seen until the man had rushed a Chig moving in to blindside him. The soldier had used his rifle as a club and the Chig had cut the brave fool in two. By then, he had offed the Chig he'd been engaged with and turned around to take out that one as well. Hand to hand with Chigs was a dirty, smelly business and, just this once, he was actually grateful for the rain.

Glancing around the former compound, he realized that not a single building remained. He had to find a way to get the injured out of the rain. Spotting one of the empty troop transports, he decided that the worst of the injured would be put inside the transports until the hospital could be rebuilt. The rest of his command would have to make do with whatever shelter they managed to rig.

Norton staggered into view, left arm dangling uselessly but the right holding tight to his battered M-590. "Sir, we'll be using ships' radio to communicate with the Saratoga and the troops in the field."

McQueen nodded. "Noted, Major." He winced as the medic tossed something aside with a metallic clang. "Are you done gouging me, doc?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good. Then please attend to the major. It appears he's injured his arm."

"I'm fi-" Norton took one look at McQueen's face and nodded before dropping to the ground, his rifle propped up against his side.

"We had plenty of heroes today, Norton. I don't need any more."

"Yes, sir."

"I should bandage that leg first, sir." The medic gestured to the bloody mess he had been working on, bandages in his hand.

"I can bandage my own damn leg."

"Yes, sir." The medic handed McQueen the bandages and scooted over to Norton. "Is he always like this?" he asked in an undertone.

Norton snorted. "That's THE Colonel McQueen, doc. Doesn't shirk to do any man's duty and expects the same of the rest of us. Yeah, you could say so."

Wrapping the bandage around his thigh and lower leg, McQueen felt himself redden at the pride in Norton's voice. He was only doing what he'd been trained to do and what felt right. Using his rifle as a crutch, McQueen levered himself back onto his feet and tested his leg. Hurt like hell, but it would hold his weight as long as he didn't go sprinting any where.

Aware that Norton wouldn't rest any more than he would, McQueen said, "When he's done with you, Norton, organize some shelter. I don't know when new shelters will arrive, so don't count on getting any. The worst of the wounded are going to be moved into the transports."

"So when the word comes that we can fly them out, they're already aboard. Why didn't I think of that?" Norton shook his head.

"That's why I'm the colonel." McQueen gave the man a quick smile.

Going through the remnants of his command camp, McQueen found the members of the 58th struggling to rig a canopy over some wounded men and the doctors fighting to keep them alive. He lent a hand and soon at least the worst of the rain was off the doctors and their patients.

All that remained for him to do, once he'd organized what meager defenses remained and organized the cleanup of the bodies, both human and Chig, was to tell Ross what had happened.

The breeze shifted, making him gag on the stench of Chig spooge. Definitely needed to start the cleanup.

****

"Sir!"

Snapping awake from the first real sleep he'd had since the operation had begun, McQueen barely managed to choke back his growl of exhaustion and rein in the urge to strike out at Hawkes. "What is it?" he snarled.

"They're here!" Hawkes gripped his shoulder, shaking him slightly before backing off.

Frowning, groggy from exhaustion, McQueen muttered ill-temperedly, "Who?" It was still dark, a glance at his timepiece showed he'd been asleep a grand total of two and a half hours.

"They're here!"

Realizing that there would be only one reason for Hawkes to be so excited. McQueen bit back a groan as he fought his way to his feet. "Where?"

Wincing with every step, he limped after Hawkes to the new medical shelter that Ross had sent down just before night fall. The medics had ordered him to go sleep in one of the makeshift shelters that had been erected alongside the transports. Hawkes waited impatiently at the doorway as he clenched his jaw and made his stiffened leg move.

"This way." Like a hound loosed from its leash, Hawkes darted off through the jumble of nurses, doctors and ambulatory wounded working their way back outside to find a place to sleep.

Sighing, McQueen headed in the general direction Hawkes had disappeared in. He quickly glanced into the various rooms until finally he saw Hawkes bouncing up and down on his toes, grinning like a fool. Pausing in the doorway, McQueen felt his heart constrict at the sight of his missing kids. Their mud and blood encrusted uniforms were being cut off them, but the bodies underneath were just as filthy. Seeing nurses starting to try to sponge the mud and blood off, McQueen shook his head. They'd do better to use a hose. Doctors frantically worked on an unconscious West on one gurney while less hectic ones huddled over 'Phousse who was holding both Vansen's hand and Wang's, smiling exhaustedly. On the farthest side of the room, under Finch's worried gaze, a pale St. John didn't move as three doctors started pointing out various injuries.

"Move it, mister!"

McQueen hurriedly moved to the side, holding the door open as nurses with equipment entered the room.

"All right, everyone who isn't a doctor or nurse, get out. They'll be here in the morning." The voice that had told him to move belonged to a petite blonde with piercing brown eyes. "You heard me, out. That includes you." She pointed a finger at him.

He kept his voice low, asking, "Can you at least tell me what is wrong with them before I go? I just got here."

For a second, he thought she was going to refuse. "You five, out of here. Now! You," she glared at him, "Get out of the way and sit down. You're bleeding." She gestured to a chair and he limped over to it, grateful to get off the leg. As she crouched and started undoing the bandages, she asked, "You do this yourself?"

"Yes."

"Not a bad job." The leg unwrapped, she studied the wounds for a second before saying, "Open up the flight suit." She fingered several holes in the fabric above his hip. "Unzip."

With a grimace, he obeyed, shrugging it off his shoulders. She grabbed a set of shears, cutting the turtle neck up the side before he could even start to take it off. He winced when she poked him in the right side. "That hurts."

"You've got shrapnel embedded up to your shoulder. It's going to take a bit of time to remove them. Might as well make yourself comfortable. You're going nowhere." Glancing back over her shoulder, she snapped, "Jerry, I need a set of tweezers and a bowl." As the requested items were handed to her, the nurse glared at the standing members of the squad. "Didn't you hear me? Get out. Now."

"But-" started Hawkes.

The nurse squared her shoulders and faced the reluctant Hawkes, a full head shorter than him. "The only way you're staying is if you're injured. Are you injured seriously enough to warrant a bed? No? Then get the hell out. I have patients to attend to and I don't need my personnel tripping all over you."

McQueen hid a smile as his kids trickled out.

The nurse snagged a stool with her foot and dragged it over to beside McQueen before resuming talking to him. "As to what's wrong with these three, I don't have complete details, but this is what I know. Those two," she nodded toward 'Phousse and St. John, "came in carrying him." She pointed at West briefly. "He's been unconscious for several days from what they've said. So far, we do know that he is suffering from five broken ribs, some internal injuries though we haven't had him scanned yet to see just where they are, a severe head injury, and something akin to pneumonia. They all sound like they have the last, in fact. Infections has started in some of the cuts they've picked up during their travels. Now, the woman there, she's got a dislocated shoulder, a handful of cracked ribs, a concussion, some internal bruising and light bleeding. He, on the other hand, somehow managed to crack a thigh bone, as well as several cracked ribs, concussion, and internal bleeding. How the hell they managed a two hundred mile trek, I don't know."

McQueen closed his eyes, visualizing the map. The 5-8's assigned area had been to the northwest. "Do you know what direction they came in from?" He looked over at the three wanderers, nearly buried under doctors and nurses.

"The west, sir," came 'Phousse's weak voice. "Almost due west. The damn flash flood swept us a hundred and fifty miles to the west. I lost my pack in the water. I started searching and found St. John first, tangled in some debris, just coming around, coughing up water and blood. We found Nathan a while later, washed up against some rocks. No pack on him, but he never woke up. We did what we could and started walking." She breathed shallowly. "We found her... or rather, she found us, three days ago. She did what she could for us. We're not nearly as bad off as we would have been if she hadn't found us." A cough started and the doctors hurriedly turned her head to the side.

McQueen could see the coughs racked her entire body and sighed.

As if 'Phousse's cough were a signal, the other two started coughing, hard, wet sounding coughs.

"We're hoping the bug that's doing that will respond to our treatments." The nurse held up a one by one inch piece of metal. "Amazing that you didn't feel that."

"Indeed. I suspect because my leg hurts so much more. Any more like that?"

"Doesn't look like it. Just a lot of medium and little ones."

"Good." Before he could ask the question he wanted to, a feeling of contentment flowed over him and he knew Silver was nearby and, more importantly, that she was safe. The mental tone clearly told him to relax, that she would be with him soon. "Can I lean back?"

"Go ahead."

He let his head rest against the wall and closed his eyes. Now that he was sitting and off his feet, the last week and a half made his body feel like lead. The irresistible urge to sleep overpowered him and his eyes closed.

Finished picking the small pieces of metal out of his side, the nurse glanced up at him and smiled. He was sound asleep and about time; she had heard some officers talking about the fact that he had slept maybe twelve hours in all since his arrival on the planet and probably less since the planetary assault had started. She would take the time to stitch up the couple of holes in him that needed it after a serious cleaning out and then have some orderlies put him on a gurney to sleep.

"Sleeping at last, I see." The quiet voice held loving amusement.

The nurse looked up at the woman stepping out of the makeshift shower room, wrapped in a towel. "He didn't ask about you."

"He didn't need to." Silver reached over and cupped his cheek, smiling gently. "Sleep, love. You can see me when you wake up." Glancing at the nurse, she asked, "Do you have a sedative he can use safely?"

"Yes, but there's no risk he'll wake up. He's far too exhausted."

"You don't know him. In a few hours, he'll be up and forcing himself to work some more. It's time for him to rest. I'll take over down here. I want him off this planet and out of the reach of the enemy. I'll be up once everything is secure down here." Silver kissed his forehead. "I missed you, Ty."

"Just who are you anyway?" The nurse stood up, setting aside the bowl full of bloody metal fragments and stretching.

"His wife. Their XO. Colonel Silver." Holding out her hand, Silver said, "Thanks for taking care of him. He's a stubborn cuss and hates to let his guard down."

"He certainly didn't seem that way to me."

Silver grinned. "That's because, unlike most of the medical personnel he's had to deal with, you talked _to_ him, not _at_ him. Makes a world of difference, treating him like a person."

"Do you have something to wear? I don't think you'd get far giving orders dressed like that." The nurse raised an eyebrow.

"Oh, you'd be surprised. I've been in situations with less on and fighting for my life. True, the men take a few seconds to adjust, depending on how urgent the situation is, but they soon forget the nakedness and concentrate on my orders." Silver shook her head, smiling. "But yes, I do happen to have a spare, clean and, thank god, dry uniform. Somehow I managed to keep it that way. It didn't seem to make much sense to change a filthy soaked mud-caked one for a clean one only to have it end up in the same shape. One ruined uniform is enough. Unfortunately, I'll have to settle for soggy boots. Not fun."

"Colonel?"

Silver spun on her heel, a feat that amazed the nurse since Silver was in her bare feet, and went to stand by 'Phousse's head, out of the way of the examining doctors. "Yes, 'Phousse?"

"We did it? We've taken the planet?"

"Yes. Tellus is ours and the Chigs will never get it back."

"Good. Nathan'll be glad to hear that."

As 'Phousse lost her tenuous grasp on consciousness, Silver kissed her forehead. "Sleep, Vanessa. You're safe. Soon you'll be on the 'Toga." The door opened and Silver gave the nurse entering a wide grin. "Temple! What are you doing down here? I figured you'd be on the 'Toga?"

"Well, Dr. Connelly decided that we'd do more good down here right now." Tucking an errant lock of black hair back up under her cap, Temple returned the grin. "I saw Dr. Jade a few mikes ago and she'll be in to look them over. Then she's back to surgery." Giving the towel a look, she added, "Interesting uniform of the day, colonel."

"It's all the rage in the mud flats." Silver chuckled. "Ok, ok, I'll get dressed."

Five minutes later, Silver ran her hand through McQueen's hair, kissed his cheek and left.

****

Familiar sounds woke McQueen and he frowned slightly. How the hell had he ended up on the 'Toga and in Sickbay? Opening his eyes, he found Ross pacing at the end of the bed, looking at a report. "Glen?" he croaked and instantly started looking for some water to soothe his dry throat.

"About damn time you woke up." Ross walked over to the side of the bed, slapped the report down on the table and poured McQueen a glass of water. As the glass was taken and sipped, he continued. "You've been out for nearly thirty-six hours, Ty. Granted they decided to slip you a Mickie in case you started to wake up after only three hours of sleep, but this is ridiculous." He grinned and patted McQueen on the shoulder. "It's all right, Ty. I'm sure you needed the sleep."

"What's our status?"

"Everything is fine, my friend, just peachy." As McQueen looked worried at the dryness of his tone, Ross shook his head and laughed. "You pulled it off, Ty. Tellus is ours. The causalities were pretty heavy, but Tellus is now our property and we're not going to let it go any easier than the Chigs did. Once the major Chig forces were taken out at the wormholes, twelve transports of the Army Corps of Engineers came through. A permanent base is in the process of being built even as we speak. They've dragooned every available, moderately healthy body down there to use pick-axes and shovels and pour the concrete. The hospital's foundation is already set."

"What about the Chigs?"

"Patrols are combing the planet. They'll find any remaining Chigs or AIs and deal with them." Ross shook his head again. "By the skin of our teeth, we did it."

"Where's the 5-8?"

"Those members not confined to Sickbay are in their barracks resting, like they should be." When McQueen started to speak, Ross held up a hand. "You will be released once the docs are satisfied with your health. You will be on light duty for the next several days."

"But-"

"No arguments, Ty. How much sleep did you get since this operation began?" McQueen turned his head away, guiltily. "You know you need some down time. Did you at least eat regularly?"

"Yes, two meals a day."

"Ok. Now as to those members of the 5-8 here in Sickbay," Ross took a deep breath. "Damphousse will be released in a couple of hours. The shoulder still needs time to heal, the muscles were badly wrenched. Her internal injuries appear to be healing and whatever bug she picked up appears to be responding to treatment. West is going to be here for another few days. He took some nasty knocks to the head and even though there doesn't appear to be any brain damage, he didn't regain consciousness until three hours ago. The docs say that the rest of his injuries are healing as well as can be expected. He's being given a light sedative and painkiller."

"Good. What about Lysa? Is she ok?" McQueen's eyes held worry.

"She's fine, Ty. In fact, she took over operations planet side while you slept. She came aboard about six hours ago."

"I want to see them... I want to see her." McQueen started to reach for the covers. "Where's my clothes?" He plucked irritably at the flimsy hospital gown.

"Ty, listen to me." Ross grabbed his friend's hand. "You're not going anywhere until the docs say you can. They've told me that if you are uncooperative, they will refuse to allow you to see them and her until you do cooperate."

"They can't do that. I'm their CO! She's my wife!" He sat bolt upright.

"They will." Ross' voice held firm.

McQueen fell back against his pillow. "All right, what do they want?"

"For you to seriously take it easy, eat regularly, and get some sleep for the next several weeks. There won't be any reason not to. We control Tellus and a huge fleet is parked in front of the Chigs' wormhole. Nothing is getting into this system that we don't know about."

"All right, I'll do it."

"I'll let the squad know you're up and can have visitors, after you've had a shave and a shower. Maybe you better shave in the shower." Ross grinned, running a finger along the whiskers on McQueen's jaw. "Starting to look the way you did when I first met you."

"But better shape, I hope."

"Definitely, Ty."

"What are the numbers, Glen?"

"I'll bring you the reports in a bit. The last of them will be in by 1000. I'll be by at 1100. Ok?"

"Yes, thank you."

"I'm out of here for a bit then. See you later, Ty." Grabbing his report, Ross left.

The nurse who he had last seen on the planet bustled in a moment later. "Awake at last. Ready for a shower?" She rested her hand on the covers, waiting.

He gave her a puzzled look. "Usually, they just pull the covers down while asking and whisk me off to the shower whether I want to or not.."

"Then they're doing you a discourtesy. I've been assigned to you for the duration. So, what's the answer?"

"Yes. Thank you."

"Now, as much as you might think you're up to it-"

"I know that speech by heart, Nurse..." He looked for her name tag and found none.

"Just call me Monica. Ok, colonel. If you promise not to cut your throat, I'll even give you a razor to play with in the shower." After giving him an impudent grin, she folded the covers back neatly on the side nearest the shower and moved up beside him. "Just lean on me. I'm stronger than I look."

"All of you nurses are." He sat up and slid his feet off the bed.

"Part of the training. Having to be able to lug around unconscious Marines twice our size. Learn to throw them around like hay bales. Of course, I grew up throwing around hay bales on my family's ranch." As he stood up, putting his weight on her, she grinned. "Very good, colonel. You actually took me at my word."

"I trust you."

"I appreciate that." She wrapped an arm around his waist, tucking her shoulder up under his arm. "Come on. A nice hot shower is exactly what you need right now."

The hot water felt fantastic as he stood under it alone. Filth and grime rinsed away and he shook his head at the fact that someone had cleaned him up enough to not stink and removed his mud-encrusted flight suit, but had left him alone otherwise. A warm feeling filled him and he opened the shower door.

Slipping in beside him, Silver ran her hands up his wet form and kissed him thoroughly. "I missed you, Ty."

"Not half as much as I missed you, Sa." He pulled her to him and held her tight.

After a few minutes, she said, "Let's get cleaned up. I promised Monica I'd help you out."

"Ganging up on me?"

"Trying to get you out of here. The poor gal's not the only one in Sickbay being run ragged and more wounded are being transported from the planet who need the better equipment up here. Unfortunately only shipboard facilities can finish the job on the amputations and prep them for replacements." She shook her head sadly. "A lot of people are going back to Earth and, even more unfortunately, a lot of them are going to end up with AeroTech equipment. No one else has the facilities to handle so many amputees."

"I've been trying not to think of that." He ducked his head back under the water and then stepped out so she could get under. As he started shampooing his hair, McQueen asked, "How bad was it?"

"Not bad at all, love, outside of the rain, the mud and the overall wetness of things." She grinned at him. "Really, Ty, it wasn't all that hard, once I got here. I take it the torpedoes made it?"

"All three of them. However you managed to send us that last one filled with flybys of planetary installations, I don't know." He saw her grin widen. "What did you do?"

"Would you believe I actually was snugged in tight with a transport ship?" As he stared at her, she chuckled. "I had the excellent luck after the second torpedo was sent to be sitting on the moon when the transport came gliding along. It was damaged and in the process of repairing itself, but putting out a ton of noise. So I used the noise as cover and tucked in right under the wing. It was headed planet side and I just tagged along, recording everything I could. Then when it went over the mountains, I let my ship slip away, by dropping power, and once out of its range, hit space long enough to fire off the last torpedo. Then I dropped my ship near my designated coordinates and went hunting."

"Went hunting, huh? And what did you catch, my dear?" He started washing her back, using the opportunity to just touch her, feel her under his moving hands.

"Lot's of things. Including some rabbits. Somehow the damn lab rabbits and rats survived the crash and have thrived." Shaking her head, she added, "They're all over the place around the crash site."

Turning her around so that the water could rinse her back, he used the opportunity to kiss her once more. "I don't know how the hell you managed it. I've wanted you since you left."

"Practice, love, practice." Sliding her arms around his waist, she hugged him tight. "I take it you got all those little holes in your side and leg during the Chigs' last ditch effort?"

"Yes." He blinked and pulled his head back slightly. "How did you know about those?"

"I watched Monica finish taking them out. I was in the shower while she worked on you and you," she tapped his nose lightly, "love, were sound asleep when I came out."

"So that's where you were. I knew you were close, but I was so tired I couldn't have found the ground without falling over." He smiled and shook his head, ducking under the water to rinse off.

"That you were. I wrangled myself into your position with the aid of a Major Norton."

Shutting off the water, McQueen smiled ruefully. "He's a good officer. Smart and picked up on my maneuvers quickly. I like him." Startled at his announcement, he said, "I think I would like to keep him around."

"We might be able to arrange that, if he's willing." Grabbing a towel, Silver started rubbing him down, letting herself enjoy feeling him.

"I take it you brought the flight suit?" he asked, having spotted the clean uniform hanging from the back of the door.

"And the rest of the necessary items, including clean, dry socks and boots. The boots you were wearing are drying, but will need to be broken in again."

He groaned and grabbed the towel, stopping her hands. "I'm not looking forward to that. If you don't stop using the towel, I'm going to probably do something I'm not allowed to yet."

Putting the towel into his hands, she grinned. "Right on the nose, love. Here, take the towel. I better get dry and dressed myself."

Five minutes later, they were both sitting in the room putting on their boots when Monica entered. She looked from one to the other, shook her head with a smile and said, "Ok, I'm going to release you, Colonel, but I've orders from Dr. Jade. Strict orders. And if you don't follow them, she's going to come down on both of us. That's something I'd rather avoid if possible."

"Same here." McQueen stood straight. "What are the doctor's orders?"

"No alcohol for the next couple of days, no heavy duty exercise programs for the same period of time. Make sure you eat." Resting her hand on his shoulder, she met his eyes squarely.

"Easy enough to do."

"And you're both relieved of duty until tomorrow morning to allow adequate time for getting reacquainted." Monica grinned.

"Extremely easy to do." He paused, then asked, "Can I see West and 'Phousse?"

"Briefly. West is due for a minor surgery in thirty mikes. Try not to upset West please."

"I just want to see him."

She gave him a nod. "Then I'll see you around, colonels. He's two doors down on the left."

Silver held her hand out to McQueen and he took it. "Let's go visit West."

At first glance, West looked terrible with his pale face, fatigue still evident in the lines of strain, bandages around his head, ribs and lower body in addition to the IV still running into his arm. Lightly he touched West's arm.

West's eyes fluttered open and he looked groggily at McQueen. "Sir?" The brown eyes focused and he managed a smile.

"Yes. Feeling better?"

"Yes, sir. Tired though. I keep falling asleep. Are they drugging me?"

"Only lightly, mostly painkillers."

"'Phousse was here earlier. She said we won."

McQueen smiled. "That we did."

"Damn. I don't remember anything after getting hit by a wall of water."

Squeezing the crestfallen young man's shoulder, McQueen said, "It's all right. Hawkes will love to fill you in on what you missed."

West groaned. "Keep him away. He'll make me even more tired."

Chuckling, McQueen said, "I know the feeling. I'm sure the rest of the squad will be by in a while."

"Good to see you awake at last, Nathan." Silver touched his cheek lightly.

Biting his lip, West glanced from McQueen to Silver. Nervously, he licked his lip and asked, "Um... would it be all right with you, sir, it I asked.... if I asked her to... I mean..."

Realizing what West was trying to ask, McQueen said quietly, "It's fine by me, Nathan. You've scared everyone pretty badly with not waking up until you did. Head injuries are tricky things as we both know."

"Yes, sir. I remember. I also want out of here as soon as it's possible." Turning his head to look at Silver, West met her frank gaze levelly. "Ma'am-"

She shook her head slightly. "Nathan, you are not asking a superior officer for this."

"Yes, ma- I mean, Lysa. May I have a drink?"

Half turning, she said, "Well, let's see, we have a lovely pitcher of water right over here."

"That's no-" Realizing she was teasing him, West reddened and managed a grin. "Please."

"Of course."

McQueen watched as Silver used a sharp tooth to cut her wrist open and press the bleeding opening to the young man's mouth. After three swallows, she took her wrist away, licking it, sealing it.

"Close your eyes, Nathan." Her voice dropped in volume, becoming low, soft and compelling. "Let yourself relax. Feel your body. Feel your body whole, healthy."

As she talked the young man into a healing state, McQueen wrapped his arms around her waist and rested his chin on her shoulder. She straightened up after a few minutes.

"All done?" he asked quietly.

"Yes. Let's go home, Ty. We have some catching up to do."

"One more stop, love. Glen told the squad I would be here."

With a sigh, she nodded. "Ok."

They found Vansen, Hawkes, Russell and Finch sitting around, talking. They jumped up as the two colonels entered.

"Sir! The commodore said you were awake, but he suggested we wait a bit before visiting you." Vansen gave him a worried look.

"I'm fine, just have to take it easy for a few days. I thought you might like to know that West woke up a bit ago." McQueen leaned against the bunks, aware of Silver's presence at his side.

"Good. We were getting worried about the fact he hadn't woke up yet." Vansen gestured to a free chair. "Do you want to sit down, sir?"

"Thank you, but I think I'll stand for the moment. You'll have to wait to see West. He's scheduled for surgery, but I'm sure you can visit him afterward.. 'Phousse will be released shortly."

Finch sighed. "They looked a fright when they showed up."

"It must have been a helluva trip, though," Hawkes said, shaking his head.

"I think you're right, Hawkes. I do have a suggestion. Don't ask about it if they don't volunteer any information right away. I think they need some time to recover from it before they talk to any of us about it." McQueen saw them nod and said, "I'll see you later."

"Yes, sir." Vansen gave him a nod as they left.

****

Sitting down to eat dinner, McQueen felt content. Telling her that Terrilli had not made it through the fighting earlier had not interfered as he had dreaded for she had already learned of his death from Monty. A thoroughly enjoyable afternoon lay behind him. In their quarters, the day had slipped past while they made love and exchanged blood several times. With her urging, he had slept afterward for an hour to allow the healing to occur. Now his body barely twinged as he moved.

Ross entered, a computer pad tucked under his arm, and McQueen knew they were the promised reports from that morning. When Silver had called to announce that McQueen would be occupied for the day, but free for dinner, Ross had chuckled and said he would meet them in the Officers' Mess for dinner.

Setting the pad on the table between Silver and McQueen, Ross said, "No looking until after dinner, Ty. I want you ready for this."

"That bad?" McQueen put his fork down, his eyes darkening with guilt.

"None of that, Ty." Ross shook his head. "Don't start the guilt trip. I'll be back in a mike."

As Ross went to the buffet, Silver laid her hand on her lover's arm lightly. "Ty, don't try to shoulder more than your share. Yes, you designed the plan, but the actual execution was in the hands of several people. Not everyone has your hard-earned ability to command wisely and know when to back off." She squeezed his arm. "Finish eating. After dinner, we'll retreat to Glen's and go over it all together."

"You already know what the numbers are."

"Not really. I just know some of what happened. After all, I didn't snooze away nearly a day and a half." She lifted an eyebrow loftily and let her snotty tone turn into a chuckle.

Shaking his head ruefully, McQueen gave her a grin. "Ok. I won't think about it until after dinner."

"That's my Ty."

They kept the talk away from the darker aspects of the just finished mission. The squad filed in and McQueen looked them over, seeing that they looked better and that Hawkes had lost the sling since that morning. After eating, McQueen tucked the computer pad under his arm and escorted Lysa to his friend's quarters. It took all of his resolution to set the pad down and go through the bartending routine.

"All right, Ty. I can see you're fit to bust. I'll give you a general idea of the numbers so you'll be prepared." Ross accepted the grog and waved McQueen to his usual seat. Picking up Rosalyn and setting his drink down after a sip, Ross said, "Grand total in dead is right around thirty-five thousand." When McQueen winced, he added, "We knew it would be high, Ty."

"I just hoped not too high."

"It could have been a lot worse. Only five thousand of that number were on the planet. The French took extraordinarily heavy casualties. Of their carriers, only the Richelieu remains and it's in pretty bad shape. Our fear about Chenevert turned out to be right. He's in Sickbay, most of his command crew is dead, but it's his own damn fault. He led his force in like a juggernaut and the only reason the German ship didn't get creamed along with them was Commodore Hokstader refused to follow. Hokstader rallied the battleships and destroyers around him and somehow managed to keep the Chigs from breaking through until Khoklov could send ships to help him out."

"Sounds like Hokstader deserves to be recognized."

"He's not the only one." Ross quickly continued. "Ship losses were pretty high. The Chinese carrier is dead in the water, the entire rear quarter is gone. The African carrier is gone. Her commander rammed her into a Super Hive ship when he'd evacuated the majority of his crew after getting badly gutted. The Valley Forge is salvageable, but not going anywhere quickly; she lost three quarters of her engines. The two English carriers are damaged, but repairable. The 'Toga suffered damage, but we only lost one engine. Chenevert's forces lost eleven battleships and fourteen destroyers. Khoklov lost seven battleships and thirteen destroyers. We lost nine battleships and twelve destroyers."

"What about fighters?" McQueen braced himself.

"The French lost over eleven hundred fighters. The Germans lost two hundred and fifty. Khoklov reports that seven hundred and eighty-three fighters were lost in her force. We lost just over one thousand."

McQueen closed his eyes and leaned his head back on the wall. "All those lives."

"They weren't wasted, Ty."

"We'll see." He felt Silver's hand on his arm.

As if reading his thoughts, Ross said, "The Joint Chiefs don't plan on losing it, Ty. Nor do they intend to give it away to AeroTech. It's going to be a military base first. Once a sizable force has been installed, they intend to let civilians settle. First choice goes to the surviving colonists."

"Should we tell West?"

"Yes, but he shouldn't tell anyone. I think they intend to inform the world once the bases are established and Tellus can defend itself."

"Like it did this time?"

Ross grinned. "First, the Joint Chiefs don't think the Chigs got any signals off about how we pulled this off. Second, sensor platforms are going to be seeded throughout surrounding space so this can't be done to this system. Or any other system we hold."

"I'm just glad we thought of this first."

"Now that you've had your scotch and gotten a quick run-down on the information, when do I get your report, Ty?"

"I'll start on it tonight. I was trying not to think of it."

"I don't blame you. But we need to send it to the Joint Chiefs soon."

McQueen sighed and leaned forward. "I said I'll start it tonight."

"I know you will, Ty."

With another sigh, McQueen rose. "I can take a hint, Glen. I'll have it here in the morning."

"Tomorrow night will do, Ty. You still need to read that report."

Picking up the computer pad with distaste, McQueen said, "Not the most appetizing reading I can think of."

"You've got good company for it though." Ross nodded to Silver. "Take advantage of it."

"She's already filed her report." When Ross smiled, McQueen shook his head. "Just look how taking a nap sets a fellow behind." He smiled and motioned to the door.

In the corridor, Silver asked, "Do you want to read it in our quarters or would you prefer to be alone?"

"Our quarters will do."

****

Before giving Ross his report before dinner the next night, McQueen checked on Monty and wasn't surprised to find the sergeant in Terrilli's quarters. "Are you doing all right, Sergeant?"

"There's only me and Leon left now, sir." Monty sat on the bunk, staring at the handful of pictures. "Blackie went down defending the colonel and me. Raddie and Dobbs were hit by mortar fire. Jinx," he shook his head sadly, "Jinx, he tripped a land mine on the second objective. Leon's recovering in Sickbay now. Took a shot to the gut."

"Sergeant, I don't know what to say. They were good soldiers."

"That they were, sir. Any idea what's going to be done with us?"

"I'll look into it."

As Monty started pulling pictures down from the wall, McQueen silently joined in. Soon the wall lay bare and Monty nodded once. "It's the way he saw it, sir."

"What?"

"Us taking down his pictures."

Throat tight, McQueen resolved to help Monty finish the oftime lonely and unpleasant job of picking up the pieces of a life no longer there.

In Ross' quarters, McQueen poured himself a double scotch after handing Ross his report.

"What's up?" Ross watched as McQueen downed the scotch quickly.

"I just helped pack Terrilli's things."

"Ah. That would do it."

"What's going to be done with the 138th, Glen? There's only a lieutenant and a sergeant left."

"I don't know, Ty. Any ideas?"

"I was thinking perhaps... perhaps adding them to the 58th." The scotch finished, McQueen set the tumbler down. "I better talk the idea over with Lysa first, but do you think it can be done?"

"I'll look into it, Ty. I'll let you know anything I find out."

"Thanks, Glen. I'm going to get Lysa. Meet you for dinner?"

"Sure thing."

Ross showed up late for dinner, looking harried. He set his plate down and stabbed the fork into what looked something like meatloaf.

"Ross?" McQueen felt the anger his friend radiated.

"It's not you, Ty. It's the Joint Chiefs." Ross started savaging his meatloaf. "They've decided in their infinite wisdom to move the 15th Fleet to Wolf 1061, fourteen light years from here. There's a remote possibility that the Chigs are going to be able to slip through the wormhole there."

"We haven't finished repairs." McQueen shook his head. "It's going to be rough enough if the Chigs do come through without us understrength and barely patched together."

"We won't be, understrength or barely patched together. That's about the only good news I got out of this. The Valley Forge and the Eisenhower are being attached to the 15th. We'll be meeting up with the Bunker Hill and Roosevelt as well as the rest of the 15th we left behind on this little jaunt of yours, Ty. Four destroyers and six battleships will accompany us as well a tender." Dipping his meatloaf into the mashed potatoes and gravy, Ross said, "So, the 15th will be back up to full strength ship wise. Man power, well, they said that would be shortly before we reach Wolf 1061."

"Great." McQueen frowned and shoved his meatloaf around on his plate.

"How soon do we move out?" asked Silver.

"We already are. That's why I'm late. I had to relay the new orders to the ships coming with us and lay in the new course."

"No rest for the wicked or the weary, it seems like." McQueen sighed and turned his attention to his food.

"We'll arrive in five days, given the route we have to take." More meatloaf disappeared and Ross forced his shoulders straight. "We knew the Chiefs would want to take full advantage of the pounding we just gave the Chigs. Just wish they'd have let us recover for a bit first."

"We go where they tell us, my friend, and when they tell us." Sipping his coffee, McQueen looked over the mug at Silver and knew she felt as troubled as he did. Nothing remained in their power though to change circumstances and they both knew it. Tonight, they would do what they could control.

****

Two days later, the doctors finally released West from Sickbay just after lunchtime, assigning him to light duty for the next five days. During the three days until West's release, Hawkes noticed that Master Sergeant Rollins pulled a different squadron aside for lunch and dinner. He mentioned in passing to Wang who told him that it was probably Rollin's way of congratulating the squadrons for their hard work. Wang also mentioned that unless he intended to insult the master sergeant that Hawkes should not bother Rollins about it. The sergeant would get around to the 58th when he was ready.

The next night when the squadron filed into the Officer's Mess, Rollins had Peters shoo the 58th over to the nearest conference room. There waited a buffet dinner to make their mouths water. Rollins and Peters served the squadron personally.

Hawkes dug in with gusto while his companions ate at a more leisurely rate. The roast beef was juicy and succulent, the vegetables tender yet crunchy, the bread crusty and soft inside, and the mashed potatoes were filled with cheddar. A chocolate cake waited on the sidelines. Small talk filled the room as everyone decided to talk about something other than the war or the fact they were headed back into the fray within a couple of days time.

Partway through the chocolate cake, Silver rubbed her temple and frowned. Her smiles became strained and she stopped actually volunteering stories, McQueen noticed. His eyes narrowed as he tried to feel along the bond between them and felt her rebuff him, gently, but firmly. His concern grew as she discretely pushed her half-finished cake toward him with a gesture that he finish it. He knew she loved chocolate cake and would eat it to her heart's content if given the chance.

When the talk finally died down, McQueen watched his wife covertly, aware that she would not be able to remain at the table for long. Laughter from most of the group made her wince and he decided it was time to retire. With a smile, he rose, setting his coffee mug down. "I've decided to cancel tonight's usual activities. Enjoy yourselves. Just remember, tomorrow is simulations. Good night." He held out his hand to Silver who accepted it quickly.

"Good night." Silver met the gazes of the squadron and nodded.

Accolades of 'good night, night, and pleasant dreams' followed the two colonels into the corridor. Once the door shut, McQueen asked urgently, "What's wrong?"

"Just a really bad headache, love. It'll pass."

"To bed with you. Come on. My turn to take care of you for a change."

He stayed with her through a shower and snuggled down around her as she curled onto the bed. His hands rubbed soothing circles on her back.


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter Thirteen - 2 Souls Bound Page 22

Disclaimer: The names of all 'Space: Above and Beyond' characters contained herein are the property of Glen Morgan and James Wong, Hard Eight Productions and the Fox Broadcasting Network. These names have been used without their permission. All else is my own creation.

Rating: NC17 Language, violence and graphic sex.

Spoilers: None

Warning: Sex, Language.

Author: Vasalysa, with many undying thanks to Geek.

E-Mail: 

2 Souls Bound

Chapter Thirteen

The 15th Fleet rendezvous with all of its various members the next day and proceeded on course for Wolf 1061.

McQueen watched Silver continue fighting the severe headache all day, her attempts to not lash out at the squadron making her even more irritable. As she showered after the evening run and exercise program, he said, "I think you need to go see the doctors. A headache shouldn't last this long."

"I'm not a child, Ty. Headaches come, headaches go. It'll go away." She started toweling off.

"I'm not so sure about this one. You're not eating nearly enough and you haven't been in the mood for anything, not even," his voice dropped to a whisper, "Blood. Please, humor me. Make an appointment tomorrow to see the doc. Ok?" He pulled her close to him, worried about the pain she felt.

She sighed. "All right, Ty. Just for you." Hugging him, she closed her eyes briefly, feeling sick to her stomach for the second time that day. She fought the reaction down and managed to step away from him without letting him know about it. "Come on, let's get dressed. Is Glen expecting you tonight?"

"No. I told him you weren't feeling well and that I wanted to stay with you. He understood." McQueen finished toweling himself dry and gave her a swift smile. "He told me I was being a good husband and to never forget how to be one, if I wanted to live to a ripe old age."

"I certainly don't have any complaints," laughed Silver, wincing as it drove a spike of pain through her head. "No, don't fuss, Ty." She held up her hand as he started to approach her again. "I'm all right. Let's get dressed and back to our quarters where you may fuss all you like."

When she finally fell restlessly asleep a few hours later, McQueen sat on the bed beside her, stroking her hair and fretting. Sleep was a long time in coming to him.

****

Concerned over how long the headache had lasted, Doctor Connelly agreed to see Silver in the afternoon while McQueen ran the squadron through some difficult simulations. After shutting down the intercom, Silver hid in the bathroom as she felt cramps wreak havoc with her lower body for several minutes. Bending over the sink, Silver thought, "Damn, but this is worse than being pregnant with Cassie."

Shaking her head, Silver groaned. "Oh, no. Not that. Not now. Jalke, don't let it be so."

It took everything Silver had to get dressed and face making it through the day to her appointment.

****

An hour after her scheduled appointment with the doctors, Silver's voice came over McQueen's headphones even though she wasn't in the simulation room. "McQueen, I need to speak with you. How soon are you available?"

"Fifteen mikes. Is something wrong?"

"Not exactly. I just need to talk to you about something important."

"Where?"

"My office."

"I'll be there in twenty mikes. I have to finish with the squad."

"Good."

McQueen opened the door to her office eighteen minutes later and could not help the smile that the sight of Silver produced. Shutting the door behind him, he felt the familiar surge of pleasure throughout his body that she caused. But his worry shot to the fore. "Lysa? What is it? Did the doctors find a reason for the headaches?" He closed the distance between them in four quick strides.

Her eyes, green at the moment, twinkled up at him. "No, but-" The blaring of the alarm klaxon interrupted her. "Damn!" Lysa grabbed McQueen and kissed him hard. "I'll take the bridge."

"Lysa-"

"Damn the Chigs' timing. It's lousy for us. Go on. Blow them out of the sky."

McQueen hesitated for a second, then kissed Silver, letting it say how much she meant to him. Knowing he had to go fight, McQueen broke it off and spun on his heel.

"Take care, love, " followed him out the door.

He glanced back at her, only a step behind. "And you." Silver nodded and he trotted down the crowded corridor, the familiar adrenaline rush surging through him as he avoided collisions with other rushing crew trying to squeeze through the narrow hallways.

Watching him leave, Silver sighed with regret. Oh, well, she thought. It gave her a reason to set up a romantic evening. A contented smile curled her lips as she headed for the bridge.

In the elevator, the smile turned into a frown as the headache spiked again. Briefly, Silver thought about returning to Sickbay until the tests results were in, but she knew that Ross expected her on the bridge.

Silver's concentration on the bridge became harder to keep as the spikes of pain started coming at shorter intervals and became strong enough to make her nauseous.

The battle had been raging for over an hour and a half when Lt. Crowe turned to look up at Commodore Ross. "Sir, Dr. Connelly is insisting on speaking with you. A matter of life or death."

"Patch her through to me." Ross tapped his headset. "Yes, doctor?"

"Is Colonel Silver on the bridge?"

"Yes."

"Thank God. Get her to Sickbay immediately."

Ross glanced over at where Silver sat and realized that she looked positively green. "What is it? She doesn't look well."

"I don't have time to explain, sir. Just get her to Sickbay."

Before Ross could say anymore, Silver stood up, moaned, swayed and sank to her hands and knees.

"Doctor, I don't think she's going anywhere on her own."

"A gurney is on the way with Nurse Temple and her team."

Silver collapsed to the deck.

"Better tell them to hurry. Bridge out." Ross switched channels as he gestured for one of the security guards to move over by Silver. "Make sure she keeps breathing. Doctor's got a crew on its way for her." Changing channels again, Ross spoke to the fighters. "'Toga Control to all 'Toga fighters. This is Boss Ross. I will be taking over for Diamond Queen."

McQueen's voice sounded perfectly calm as he asked, "Is anything wrong, Boss Ross?"

"DQ is indisposed." His long friendship with McQueen allowed Ross to hear the worry in the man's voice. "Let's clear the sky and then you can talk to the doctors."

"You heard the man." Ross could hear the effort to keep McQueen's voice calm.

Turning toward where Silver lay, now on her back and two security men keeping her alive, Ross felt the fear of losing Silver. He knew if she died that McQueen would become lost again. He closed his eyes briefly before resolutely turning away, determined to finish the fight with the Chigs.

The medical team arrived and immediately started working on Silver. As he directed the fighters and the escorting destroyers, Ross heard Nurse Temple ordering the placement of a pacemaker and breathing tube. Then the medical team whisked Silver away.

****

Nearly two and a half hours later, Ross waited in the docking bay for the 58th Squadron. He schooled his features to calmness, knowing he had to radiate control for the upcoming encounter.

McQueen's cockpit had not even finished moving before the canopy slammed upwards and he scrambled out, throwing his helmet in the empty seat. He made a bee line straight for Ross.

"Colonel, go straight to Sickbay."

McQueen's eyes widened slightly and he nodded curtly. "That bad?"

"I have no idea. Dr. Connelly won't talk to me."

"Our debriefing?"

"Go, man. The debriefing can wait."

"Thanks, Glen."

As McQueen vanished through the doorway, Ross turned his attention to the waiting squadron. "All I know is the doctor demanded that he go straight to Sickbay. Something is very wrong with Colonel Silver, but I have no idea. She collapsed on the bridge."

Shock registered in the squadron. After a minute, Vansen asked, "Are we allowed to go to Sickbay, sir?"

"Give him a few minutes to talk to the doctor."

"Yes, sir."

****

Slamming into Sickbay, McQueen spotted Nurse Temple obviously waiting for him. Fingertips brushing his arm, she steered him into Dr. Connelly's office.

"I'll go get her. She's in with Silver right now."

"What's-"

Shaking her head, Temple said, "Let her talk to you, Colonel. It's not my place to discuss this with you." She left him alone.

McQueen resisted the urge to pace until Connelly showed up. He stood in place, hands behind his rigid back. The fear he felt he buried deep in his soul.

The door opened a minute later and he whipped his head around to fasten on Connelly's face. McQueen saw the fatigue and worry in her eyes. The fear for Silver nearly broke free. "Doctor?"

"Colonel, you were aware of the headaches that Silver has been suffering from?"

"Yes. She came to see you today about them. Did you find the cause?"

"Finally. When Silver left here, I had tests that needed to be run. The battle slowed things down so that it took nearly an hour and a half for the tests. I read the results and nearly ordered the tests run again. But I knew there would be no changes. I called Commodore Ross and told him I needed Silver brought down to Sickbay immediately. She collapsed and I sent Nurse Temple with a medical team to bring Silver here."

"Doctor."

"She's been poisoned, McQueen. Its common name is Head-dead and it is a nasty poison. The AIs liked it because it usually only takes twelve hours to kill its victim. But it is available on the black market. I think the fact that she's a vampire kept her alive this long. But..." Connelly looked McQueen directly in the eyes. "I have a very unpleasant task for you, McQueen. You must make a life or death decision."

"What?"

"You are her next of kin. For the last two and a half hours, we've been fighting to save Silver and the baby. But I'm afraid that the baby has been too badly damaged by the toxin to survive. I need your permission to cease trying to save the baby and concentrate on saving Silver."

At the first utterance of the word baby, the blood drained from McQueen's face. By the end of Connelly's urgent speech, he had staggered back against the desk and clutched it convulsively. "B... Baby?"

"Ah, hell, she didn't get to tell you. That damn alarm. It interrupted her, didn't it?"

McQueen nodded jerkily.

Connelly closed her eyes at the pain in his. Looking up at him again, she said, "I'm sorry, McQueen. You shouldn't have learned this way." She touched his arm gently. "I really am sorry, but you must make this decision. If we continue fighting for them both, I'm afraid we'll lose Silver as well. By concentrating on Silver alone, I think we can save her. But I need the decision now. Too much time has already gone by."

Still stunned by the announcement, McQueen stared at Connelly, his mind repeating only the word, "Baby."

"Colonel." The doctor tried to rein in her impatience at the urgency of the situation, realizing he had just had a terrific shock.

Slowly, McQueen blinked and he realized the implications of what Connelly had told him. Eyes closing, he dropped his head, feeling his throat tighten with unshed tears for the child he would never know. "Save Lysa."

The broken whisper reached Connelly. "Thank you, McQueen. I'll do everything in my power to do so."

As she spun on her heel, McQueen grabbed her arm. "You're sure it's mine?"

"She was positive and the blood tests confirmed it. McQueen, we'll keep the body intact."

"Couldn't we use a tank or something?" It measured the depth of his desperation that he would subject his own child to a growth tank if it meant survival.

"We don't have any on board. I'm sorry."

He loosened his grip and stood, mind still reeling.

****

The 5-8 filed into Sickbay. At the nurses' station, Temple looked up. "He's still in the doctor's office. Alone. I think you better take him someplace else. Don't leave him alone."

"How's Silver?" asked Vansen.

"Both Dr. Connelly and Dr. Jade are with her." Temple hesitated, then said, "It's serious."

"What is it?" asked West.

"Someone poisoned her."

The squadron gasped. Vansen collected herself. "We'll take care of the colonel. If you need him, he'll be in our barracks."

"Good."

Vansen stiffened her back and led the way to Dr. Connelly's office. She opened the door. At first glance, McQueen appeared all right. Then she took a real good look at him and saw his despair. His posture was not as upright as she had first assumed. The slightest of slumps to his shoulders and head along with the white knuckled grip he had on the desk edge told her he had been hit hard by whatever news the doctor had given him.

"Hawkes, get him to let go of the desk. Finch, go get a bottle of Silver's scotch. St. John, find something of Silver's that has her scent. Russell, tell Paul to get back to our barracks. I think he's in his office today. This is going to take all of us to combat."

Hawkes managed to free the desk from the McQueen's tight grip. For a second, McQueen's fingers stayed loose. Then they closed tight around Hawkes' hand. "Damn, but he's got a good grip."

"Shane, he's really upset. He isn't even looking at us." West frowned, running his hand through his hair.

"He's in shock, mental shock." Vansen started to gently tug on McQueen's arm. "We have to get him to the barracks and stay with him. He knows we're here and we mustn't leave him alone until he comes out of this. And whatever happens, we don't mention it until he does. You'll understand when the time comes. 'Phousse, get his other arm."

"Shane, he isn't letting go." Hawkes looked up from where he was attempting to free his hand. "I don't want to hurt him."

"All right. West, you take my position. 'Phousse and I will clear the way. You two guide him and be careful; he may not remember about stairs."

It took them nearly twenty minutes to maneuver McQueen through the corridors. When at last they entered their barracks, Vansen motioned toward Wang's bunk. "Paul's is the closest and easiest."

Hawkes helped West get McQueen to sit down.

Finch brought over the bottle of Scotch she had found. "How much?"

Her eyes on McQueen, Vansen chewed her lower lip. "A doub- no, a triple. We need to get him to relax fast. And hopefully go to sleep."

"How are we going to get him to drink it?" 'Phousse stood, hands on her hips. "We can't force it on him."

"I'm hoping that if we put it to his mouth, he'll start drinking."

From the table, Wang said, "Let me do it then. He won't hurt me and he already associates me with a traumatic time."

"Good idea." Vansen stepped out of the way.

Wang rose stiffly and took a second to stretch, ignoring Vansen's brief glare.

Once Wang sat beside McQueen, Finch handed him the full glass.

Softly, Wang spoke. "Ok, sir, I need you to drink this. Just listen to my voice. Sip this down slowly." Wang pressed the glass to McQueen's lips and tilted the glass until the scotch just touched the tight mouth. "Come on, sir, take a sip." He could feel the incredible tension in McQueen's body.

McQueen took a small sip.

"That's good, sir. Take some more."

Sip after sip, with Wang encouraging McQueen, the scotch disappeared. The slump in McQueen's shoulders and head became more noticeable.

Hawkes flashed Vansen an anguished look as the nearly imperceptible hitch to McQueen's breathing reached him and he realized that McQueen was crying.

Wang handed the empty glass to Russell. "Good job, sir. Now, let Coop go. We're here. We won't leave you alone. I promise."

When McQueen's grip loosened after several minutes, Hawkes took his time to ease his hand out and massaged the bruised flesh gingerly. "It's ok, sir. You didn't seriously hurt me."

McQueen sat stiffly.

"I think we better give him another drink." Vansen stared down at McQueen. "We really need him to relax."

"All right." Finch started to pour another. "A triple again?"

"Yes."

Wang talked McQueen into drinking the second glass. "That was good, sir."

'Phousse touched McQueen's cheek gently, wiping away a solitary tear. "He's crying, Shane."

Another tear escaped the weakening iron will.

When McQueen still did not respond to them, Vansen decided on a third triple. After a moment, McQueen's head dropped.

"Get him to lie down." Vansen helped Wang out of the way.

McQueen curled up into a fetal position, arms hugging his chest as tears ran freely down his cheeks. Eyes still open, his body started to shake.

"Hold him. Touch him. Let him know we're still here." Suiting words to actions, 'Phousse slid onto the bunk and lifted McQueen's head onto her thigh. "He needs the contact." She started stroking the short hair.

"He hates being touched," noted West, resting his hand on a shaking thigh.

"Don't argue." Wang settled down in front of McQueen, his own knee touching the crossed arms. He placed his hand on the trembling upper arm he could reach.

Fifteen minutes later, the shaking subsided and McQueen's eyes slid closed as the last tears trickled down the wet cheeks.

"One of us should stay with him at all times." Looking up, 'Phousse said, "I'll go first."

"I'll keep you company." Wang smiled sadly. "I finished my work for the day."

Six hours later, Hawkes and Russell were sitting with McQueen.

A soft knock sounded on the barrack's door. With a groan, Vansen rolled out of her bunk and, yawning, went to it. "Yes? Who is it?"

"The commodore."

Vansen opened the door. "Sir?"

Beside Ross stood both Dr. Connelly and Dr. Jade. "McQueen is here?"

"Yes, sir. We got him to sleep, ah, let's see-"

"Six hours ago," Hawkes said.

"Thanks." Vansen stepped out of the doorway. "Come in."

The rest of the squadron woke up and sat on their bunks.

"Do you have any idea of what's happened?" Ross ushered both doctors into the room and closed the door behind him.

"Nurse Temple said Silver had been poisoned. That's it, sir."

"That is the very basics of what has happened." Dr. Connelly sat down at the table and ran a weary hand through her loosened red hair. "There's a lot more to it."

"The fact that Silver is a vampire probably kept her alive as long as it did." Dr. Jade sighed, blinking blearily. "The particular poison she was given usually kills within twelve hours. By the time she had gone to see Dr. Connelly, it had been roughly thirty-six hours since she had started having the headaches."

Exchanging concerned looks, the squadron realized that put the the first signs at the special dinner.

Dr. Connelly resumed speaking. "By the time I contacted the commodore about getting Silver back to Sickbay, it was nearly too late. The test results were delayed by the battle; it caused the lab to do everything slowly. Silver stopped breathing before Nurse Temple could get to the bridge." She gave Ross a quick look. "Fortunately, the security guards on the bridge were versed in CPR."

"Scared the hell out of me, her collapsing on the bridge like that." Ross shook his head sadly.

"With Nurse Temple's quick action, Silver was kept alive." Dr. Jade took up the narrative. "We administered the antitoxin, but were forced to divide our efforts."

"Divide?" Hawkes frowned from where he sat in front of McQueen.

"We were fighting for-"

McQueen broke into Dr. Connelly's explanation. His voice sounded even, betraying little emotion. "They were trying to keep both Silver and... our baby alive."

Gasps and shocked looks swept the room. "Baby?" several voices said.

Meeting McQueen's bleak gaze, Connelly continued. "By the time Colonel McQueen arrived in Sickbay, we had already determined that the baby had suffered irreversible damage and would not survive even another month. I'm sorry, Colonel, but even if a neo-natal tank had been available, the baby would not have lived. It was in a lot of pain. I really think it was better this way."

"What do you mean?" Vansen looked from McQueen to Connelly and back.

"They made him choose." Hawkes closed his eyes, feeling the pain McQueen did. "They made him choose between trying to save both and only saving Silver."

"If we had continued trying to save both the baby and Silver, we would have lost them both." Dr. Jade met Hawkes' angry eyes.

"It doesn't make it any easier." Hawkes looked down at McQueen. "I'm sorry, sir. I know what it meant to you."

McQueen touched Hawkes' arm gently. "I know. I would like to sit up."

Moving out of the way, Hawkes glanced over at Vansen and saw her paleness. "I think we could all use a drink."

Hand to his head as he sat up, McQueen asked, "How much scotch did you give me?"

"Three triple shots."

"In how short a time frame?" McQueen grimaced.

"Ah, maybe fifteen mikes, sir."

"No wonder my head hurts. I need some coffee."

"I'll get it." Russell got up and left the room.

Finch passed the scotch bottle around the room. Even the commodore and Connelly took a drink. Only McQueen and Dr. Jade merely handed the bottle to the next person.

"How is she, Dr. Connelly?" asked McQueen.

"Alive, and on the road to recovery. Jade stayed with her the entire time it took to purge the toxin from her body and she's breathing on her own. We've decided to keep her sedated for another twelve hours. I'd like you to be there when she wakes up, Colonel."

McQueen nodded, understanding. "So I can break the news to her."

"Not alone, McQueen. I wouldn't ask that of you." Connelly met his gaze squarely. "I'm sorry about how you found out, but I'm not sorry for saving Silver's life. She'll be able to have more children. The toxin did not damage her reproductive functions."

McQueen started to speak, then shook his head.

"Colonel, not even being half Invitro and half vampire would have saved the child." Dr. Jade straightened in her chair. "It kept the child alive as long as it did, but that existence had become pain. To leave it so..." Jade shook her head. "That would been cruel. To leave any living thing in that kind of agony..."

"Enough, Jade. You've made your point quite clearly." Connelly lightly touched Jade's arm. "Colonel, I am sorry about forcing you to decide, but there was no one else to do it."

"I understand." McQueen glanced up at the door as Russell entered with an urn of coffee.

"We owe the docking crew some coffee," explained Russell as he started pouring the coffee into available cups.

Vansen was the first to speak what was on the minds of the squadron. "Sir, thirty-six hours ago makes the dinner Rollins made us the prime suspect. But I can't believe he'd do this."

"Neither can I." Ross frowned. "He's had plenty of other opportunities to do something like this, so why now? Is anyone else suffering from these symptoms?"

Everyone shook their heads and Connelly grimaced. "It's what I figured. She was the target."

"Does anyone know anything about the woman who was helping Rollins serve the food?" asked Hawkes. "I didn't like the way she looked at the colonels."

"I'll start an investigation when I leave here." Running a hand through his hair, Ross said, "If this was targeted specifically at Silver, and I can't see how it could be anything else, then what the hell was the motive?"

"If it's the woman, then she may just think the colonel would become available. It's possible that she's unstable." Finch dropped her gaze to her coffee when everyone glanced her way.

"People can change their psychological profile when under a lot of stress and we've certainly been under a great deal of that lately." Connelly shook her head wearily. "McQueen, I'll send for you when we're ready to wake her up. Until then, I want her, apparently, left alone. If this was in fact deliberate, the culprit just may come around when word travels that Silver isn't dead."

Even as the various members of the squadron started to volunteer their services for guard duty, Ross, Connelly and Jade shook their heads firmly.

"No," Ross stated. "I know you want to help out. But the head of ship's security is going to be pissed off enough as it is without having you hampering his investigation. If I get any complaints from him about you interfering with the investigation, I will be forced to restrict you to quarters, which will reduce your effectiveness in keeping whoever did this from laying their hands on McQueen." He glared at the squadron. "Keeping him alive and away from whoever did this is your responsibility, folks. I don't want to be the one to have to tell Silver that not only did she lose her baby, but she lost her husband because a bunch of idiots couldn't follow orders. Are we clear on this?"

"Sir, yes, sir!" chanted the squadron back.

"Good." Ross rested his hand on McQueen's shoulder. "By the way, Ty, about that matter you asked me to look into. If you're still interested and these folks will go for it, you have the go ahead."

"Thanks, Glen." McQueen rose and leaned against the wall, sipping his coffee. "Doctors, can I at least see her briefly?"

Jade and Connelly exchanged glances. Slowly Jade nodded. "No more than five mikes, colonel. It's as much for you as anything."

"I understand. When?" He drained his cup.

"Twenty mikes," Connelly said, getting up.

"I'll be there."

Ross hesitated as the doctors left. "I'm not happy about any of this, but we'll get to the bottom of this, one way or another."

"I know we will." McQueen met his friend's gaze frankly, letting his fury at the senseless act shine in his eyes. "And justice will be done."

"That it will." Ross shut the barrack's door behind him.

"Sir, what's up?" Vansen gave him a measured look.

"You know that Terrilli's dead." When everyone nodded, McQueen continued. "Are you aware of just who is left of the 138th?"

"Monty and Leon," Wang said quietly. "The rest died on Tellus."

Only a few of the faces, notably Russell and St. John, showed that they had known the 138th had basically met its doom. The rest revealed their shock at the thought of that many people they had known having died.

"All of them?" whispered 'Phousse, her hand on her chest, eyes wide with surprise. "Raddie? Jinx? I hadn't realized...."

McQueen nodded curtly. "With only one officer left, the 138th is finished. The time it would take to give Leon and Monty a new squadron and whip them into shape just isn't available right now. Why break up groups that have already gone through training together?" He caught Vansen's gaze. "I'll leave the decision up to the squadron, but I would like to incorporate Monty and Leon into the 58th. I think we can fit them in."

"They'll start calling us the Dirty Dozen," West smirked. When all he got was irritated looks, he shook his head. "Come on. I'm just trying to lighten the mood somewhat." Straightening up from where he leaned against a bunk, he said, "Sir, I'll give you my vote right now. Bring 'em in. We've worked with them the most. It makes sense to join them with a group they're familiar with."

Nods slowly filled the room.

"I don't see a problem working with them and we just happen to have two bunks left." Hawkes jerked his chin toward the last two bunks in the barracks. "I'd rather someone I know has some survivability than some kid just out of boot who might last six weeks."

"Definitely a plus in my book," Vansen said. "It's hard enough having new personnel added to the squadron without knowing they're Chig meat."

"Don't jump into the decision. Let me know by 1730." McQueen handed his empty cup to Russell.

"Sir, I'd feel better if at least one of us was with you at all times until we know for sure that whoever poisoned Silver is in the brig."

McQueen met Vansen's steady gaze with a slight frown, but nodded once. "Agreed. Pick who's got first watch. I'm headed for Sickbay."

Touching Vansen's arm, Damphousse said, "I'd like to go with him, Shane."

Vansen patted 'Phousse's hand and looked around the room. Seeing no one appeared to mind, she nodded. "Ok. Sir, we'll have a schedule worked out within thirty mikes. Where should we look for you?"

"Her office. I'm not hungry. My appetite appears to have vanished." A grim look entered McQueen's eyes.

The squadron exchanged concerned looks as McQueen, followed by Damphousse, left the barracks. The door had barely closed behind the two when Hawkes burst out with,

"We can't just wait around for this person to strike again. We need-"

"No!" Vansen immediately lowered her voice once she had Hawkes' attention. "No, you heard the commodore. If we get in the way, we leave the colonels unprotected. Forget any foolish vigilante ideas, Hawkes, or I'll escort you to the brig myself."

His chin raised defiantly, Hawkes towered over Vansen.

"Cool it, Coop." West rested a placating hand on the Invitro's arm. "She's right, you know. No matter how we feel, we have been given a job to do by the commodore himself and we all know what happens when he's disobeyed."

"But if the person gets away with this, we'll be the laughing stock of the ship." Hawkes turned in place to see if anyone else perceived it that way and grimaced when they all shook their heads.

Vansen pinned Hawkes with a glare. "What makes you think someone's going to get away with this?"

"I don't, but-"

"But nothing. We're not going to interfere with the investigation. I don't want to have to tell the colonels that we screwed up the investigation into the murder of their baby. Do you?"

Paling, Hawkes shook his head violently.

"There's no way in hell that the commodore is going to let the person responsible go free. Any more than he let the men who hurt the colonel over a year ago."

Remembering how the commodore had punished the men who had nearly killed McQueen, Hawkes slowly grinned, startling his companions with the blood-thirstiness of his expression. He'd personally escort the prisoner to the front lines. "No problem then. What kind of schedule did you want to set up?"

****

The Sickbay felt quieter than normal to Damphousse as she stayed on his six. Realizing that any seriously injured crew had been left behind at Tellus to be transported back to Earth, she couldn't help wondering how many people besides Silver were in the rooms.

At the Nurses' Station, Temple looked up from a monitor and smiled sadly. "The doctors warned me you'd be coming." She motioned for another nurse to watch over the desk as she stood up. "I'll be back in a moment, Nichols. This way, Colonel."

The nurse paused before the third set of swinging doors on the right. Her hand didn't quite touch McQueen's arm. "I am sorry, sir. So that you're aware of it, she won't be conscious, not for some time yet."

"I know." McQueen tried to keep the harshness from his voice, eyes fastened on the bed he could just see through the door window.

"Sir, she's going to look like hell. Who wouldn't the number of times she died on me just getting her from the bridge to here?" As McQueen's head, face frozen, pivoted around to stare at her, Temple sighed heavily and shook her head. "They didn't tell you. Dammit, but that's just hurting you. You need to know the truth about her condition so you understand what's going on."

"Talk to me, nurse." His tightly controlled voice fairly rang with tension.

"Her heart stopped beating a total of six times, her breathing four. She's spending a lot of time with Hakur, Colonel, a lot. When she does come around, remember that. Those who visit Hakur and Jalke for extended periods of time sometimes have trouble readjusting to life or, perhaps it might be better to say, they have trouble recognizing this reality right away."

"For how long?" he snapped.

"Usually no more than a couple of hours." Temple rested her hand on the door so lightly it didn't move. "Just remember, Colonel, that she died six times. Once on the bridge, three on the way to Sick Bay, and twice on the table. Don't expect her to be her usual self for a while."

"I wouldn't. Anything else?"His impatience to see her warred with his insane desire to postpone it. If he didn't see her, it didn't happen, right? The worry etched into Damphousse's face that he caught from the corner of his eye stiffened his back.

"Not now. When we're closer to waking her up, we'll talk some more about what to expect. Now, I have my orders. Five mikes, sir, no more. Both doctors agreed that if you overstay, we're not to let you back in until she's awake and coherent again."

"Five mikes it is then. Can I go in now?"

"Yes." Temple pushed the door open.

"I'll wait out here for you, sir." Damphousse watched him nod curtly before he entered the room and her heart broke at the pain in his eyes and soul.

Temple kept the door from swinging out and sighed. "Five mikes, lieutenant."

"Yes, ma'am." Once Temple walked back toward the Nurses' Station, 'Phousse glanced into the room in time to see the man she always thought of as made from steel, and unbendable, collapse onto the bedside, shaking violently. Glancing down at her timepiece, she noted the time and wiped away a single tear.

****

Twining his fingers into Silver's limp ones, McQueen let the raging storm inside go, knowing that he would be allowed this time in peace. After a moment, he forced himself to sit in the chair, using a foot to drag it closer to the bed, and wiped the wetness from his cheeks with the back of his free hand.

His thoughts poured out, the words stumbling over each other as he let it out. "Dammit, Lysa, why now? Why the hell did you have to be pregnant now? What happened to contraceptives?" Recalling that comatose people seemed to remember what they hear and realizing how it might sound to her, he said, "That wasn't supposed to sound petty, but dammit, I didn't need this." A half-hysterical laugh escaped. "Listen to me. 'I didn't need this.' You didn't need this even more."

Back under control, he continued talking softly. "Lysa, you know how hard it is for me to say the words. They just don't fall easily, but I love you. And what scares me the most is I need you. God, how much I need you. You're my rock, my anchor in the storm. Life isn't worth anything if you're not here to share it with me."

Head lowering until his forehead touched their entwined hands, he said, "I don't dare think about the baby. Every time I do, I'm filled with such rage. God, it hurts, too. Hell, I never even had the chance to be overjoyed at the thought of being a father. You at least had that for a few precious moments. I wouldn't wish what I went through on my worse enemy. To find out you're a father and have to make the desperate choice, all in the same moment." He wiped more tears away. "Lysa, we'll deal with it however we can, together."

****

Quietly, Damphousse pushed the door open. It took her a few seconds to find her voice as she saw how his long, lean body sat hunched in the chair, the desperate clutching of his fingers on Silver's hand, and the remnants of tears on his face. "Sir," she said quietly. "It's time."

He nodded once, hard and fast, and stood up. Holding Silver's hand in both of his, he said, "Lysa, I'll be here when you wake up. If I have to walk off the bridge in the middle of a Chig attack, I will be here. Later... love."

The pain and determination in his eyes reached her and she stopped him with a hand on his chest before he could push past. "Sir." Reaching up, she finished wiping his face clean, catching the ones on the bottom of his jaw and down his neck. "Can't let you out looking like that, sir."

Holding her hand briefly, he managed a wan smile. "Thank you. For caring."

"You make it easy, sir. Now, are we going to get you anything to eat?"

"No. I'm not hungry. Just thirsty."

"Ok."

Nurse Temple glanced up as they left the room and she gave them an approving look and nod. "I'll make sure you're called when they're ready to wake her, Colonel."

"Thank you."

****

Five hours later, a steel-eyed McQueen stalked onto the bridge as the klaxons blared. At his heels trotted Russell, whose hazel eyes reflected the same held in check rage as his superior. During the three hour battle, he managed to stay out of the way.

On the way to McQueen's quarters after Ross gave the all clear, Russell asked, "Sir, how do you know where to send the fighters? Or when to commit them to a specific area? I couldn't seem to get the reasoning behind what you were doing. I mean, no offense, sir, but-"

McQueen growled as they entered the elevator, "Must be time to start up strategy and tactics classes." He nearly grinned at the sudden dismay in Russell's face. "It's the same stuff as you use on the ground in combat, just a larger playing field. You just need to learn to think of the larger picture."

"As if we don't have enough to do as it is. They're going to kill me if they find out I'm the reason." Russell shook his head as the elevator doors opened and they started to walk out.

"Actually, Russell, Silver and I had been thinking about starting the classes. You just reminded me."

"That's almost as bad, sir." Russell managed a brief smile. As they stopped before Silver and McQueen's quarters, he asked quietly, "Sir, what are you planning on doing now?"

"A quick shower, then I'll debrief the squad."

"It's been a while since you last ate, sir."

McQueen started to shrug the observation away, but realized that he needed to keep up his strength. "The Tunn after the debriefing."

Alone inside his quarters, McQueen stripped out of the sweaty flight suit and ran the shower hot, nearly scalding himself under the spray. He let the water beat his body, reveling in the sensations, wishing it were as easy to wash away the darkness. Resting his head on the wall, he felt the tears threatening again and swore softly. Not now. He couldn't deal with this now, not without Lysa. It took a supreme effort but long habit made it possible to lock away the pain and sorrow. It was only temporary, he knew. It would come exploding out, at the most inconvenient moment if he didn't keep an active lock on it.

As he slowly ran the soap over his still lean body, making sure it lathered up well, he told himself it was just as well to spend time in the Tunn. He had no desire to sleep alone right now, no matter how tired he felt, and now there were no spare bunks in the 58th's barracks, not that he had ever spent time sleeping there before Silver's poisoning. Once the lather was rinsed off and the shower shut down, he grabbed a towel and started to dry off, wishing that Silver were there to tease him.

The dirty clothes from the last two days were stuffed into a laundry bag and he slung it over his shoulder as he left the rooms. The bag went down a laundry chute as he headed for the 58th's debriefing room, Russell keeping pace on his six.

****

The squadron, including the newest members, occupied two tables and were in the midst of a huge poker game. Everyone's concentration turned out to be lousy so no one was raking it in.

McQueen glanced up at the tavern's entrance and froze for a second on seeing Nurse Temple. One by one the rest of the squad turned to face the nurse.

"It's time, Colonel."

With a sigh, McQueen laid his full house of tens and queens on the table. The one decent hand in the last two hours and he couldn't play it out. When he saw Hawkes setting his hand down, McQueen shook his head. "I'll be safe enough, Hawkes."

Stubbornly, Hawkes shook his head. "The commodore was quite specific, sir. I don't intend to make the commodore angry with me for disobeying his order in this."

Aware that it was a lost cause, McQueen merely rose and headed for the door.

All three were quiet on the journey to the Sickbay, wrapped in their own thoughts. Outside Silver's room, Hawkes stepped to the side of the doorway, obviously intending to stay outside and guard the room. A light touch on McQueen's hand was all Temple did to guide the colonel into the room.

In the room, McQueen found Jade and Connelly beside the bed, studying the readouts and talking quietly. Connelly smiled at him and beckoned him forward while Jade frowned.

Her arms crossed, Jade stated, "I still don't think he should be here right now. We don't know what she's going to be like waking up."

"We're not rehashing this, Jade. He deserves to be here." Connelly looked up at Temple. "I believe we're ready for the stimulant."

As Temple opened the small cupboard on the other side of the bed, McQueen took the opportunity to study his wife. The battle for her life had left its mark in faint lines around her mouth and eyes and in a paleness to her normally hearty complexion. Slow and steady, her chest rose and fell in measured breaths. To his dismay, her hair lay limp and dull on the pillow.

Connelly accepted the syringe from Temple and injected the stimulant into Silver's intravenous line. She handed the syringe back and glanced at both Jade and Temple. "Any idea how long it should take her to respond?"

"That depends on her really." Temple shrugged. "Could be seconds or minutes. Everyone reacts differently coming back." She looked over at McQueen and motioned him to take her spot. "Hold her hand, Colonel. Let her know you're here."

As the nurse stepped back and brought a chair up next to the bed, McQueen moved forward to sit in the chair. He slid his hand over Silver's fingers, gripping them tightly for just a second before twining his fingers with hers. Resolutely, he forced himself to ignore the medical personnel and concentrate on his wife and only on her.

Softly, McQueen started speaking, his gaze focused on Silver's face. "Sa, I'm here. Just like I promised. I'm here to watch you wake up. Don't keep me waiting too long, love. I need to see your gorgeous eyes. What color will they be? Blue? Green? Grey? Come on, love, open your eyes for me."

Her fingers tightening against his gave him the first sign Silver was waking. Placing his other hand on her chest he felt the faint rumble of a growl. "Get the IV out now! She's waking."

Even as Jade flashed him an irritated look, Temple moved forward, asking, "You're sure?"

"I spent over eighty hours on a bleeding transport with her in this state. I know."

Temple was just finishing bandaging the bleeding needle mark when Silver yanked her arm free, her growl audible.

"Damn!" McQueen grabbed Silver's other wrist. "Out! Barricade the door. I'll let you know when it's safe."

Jade planted her feet firmly on the deck. "She won't hurt me."

"Get her out of here." McQueen could feel Silver's muscles flexing under his hand and prayed she remained not quite awake for a bit longer.

"She won't hurt us. I know her." Jade's eyes fastened on the way Silver started to twist on the bed.

"Dammit, woman! Don't you understand? She didn't want to hurt me on that damned transport either, but she nearly killed me twice. Get the hell out!" McQueen bit his lip as he struggled to keep Silver on the bed. He leaned over Silver, whispering, "It's ok. I'm here. Just take it easy. I'm not going anywhere. Give them a moment, please."

Temple grabbed the two doctors by the arms and said, "Come on. Let's get out of here. We don't want to be in here."

"But-" Jade started to protest.

"Dammit, doctor. You know what she is. Do you really want to be in here with her that... unsatisfied and hungry?" Tugging on the arms she held, Temple headed for the door.

"I think I want you to explain that remark," Connelly said, moving for the door. "But in my office."

The door shut and McQueen kissed Silver, feeling her free hand curl around his neck below the navel. The kiss became hard and hungry as she pulled him down and onto his back over the bed rail as she sat up, leaning over him. The vivid blueness of her eyes threatened to drown him as she possessed his mouth. He tasted blood as she lifted her head and he struggled to draw air into his oxygen-starved lungs, gripping the bed rail to stabilize himself. Precious air left him as her teeth buried themselves in the soft flesh of his throat and, as she drank from him, he understood it wasn't Silver who was doing it. The hunger had awakened, without her presence to control it.

A groan escaped him as her teeth chewed his flesh slightly. With the speed that always startled him, she flung him off the bed and toward the wall. His out-flung arm hit the wall a fraction of a second before the rest of his body collided with it and he sank to his knees, his free hand over the two holes in his throat. "Lysa," he pleaded.. "Come on. You have to return. Come back to me."

A hand seized his short hair and yanked him over onto his back. He closed his eyes, not wanting to see her lunging desperately for his throat again. The expected vicious contact did not come.

"Ty?"

The need, hunger and desperate control in her voice made him wince. "It's ok. Go ahead."

"No, it's not ok. Help me keep control. I don't want to hurt you more." Her voice shook with the effort it took to control her hunger as she reached back and struggled to untie the top tie on the hospital gown she wore.

"I'm not too crazy about being hurt, as it turns out, but I knew the risks when I married you." He reached up, undid the knot and helped her slip the gown over her head. It fell to the floor beside them and he felt her hand slide under his turtleneck, lightly kneading his chest muscles. "Sa, let me up for a moment, please. I'm not going any where. I just want to get undressed." Thinking about keeping control, he concentrated on projecting it to her and nearly blacked out from the raging hunger, the desperate need, the insane need to hurt and rend, and the intense pain that filled her. Clinging to his own fragile control, he forced himself to continue projecting herself in control.

She twisted around at the waist and started tearing at the boot laces. The lacing broke and McQueen, with a grimace at the thought of having to explain why he needed someone to get him new laces, used his other foot to pry the boot off. The second boot joined the first, its lacings also tattered, and Silver grabbed the flight suit, yanking it down as far as his waist before sliding her hands up his smooth abdomen under the turtle neck and tank top toward his head. The bunched up shirts joined the boots as he let his head and arms drop carefully back down onto the deck, realizing she needed to be the one to undress him. He could feel his body responding to her touches.

In a smooth motion, she flipped around and faced his feet, her knees at his hips. Her hands slid under his khaki shorts and he lifted his hips, letting her slide the shorts and the flight suit down to his ankles until he could feel her breasts on his knees. As she straightened up, he pried the clothing off with his toes..

A gasp escaped him when Silver engulfed his hardening cock with her mouth. Moaning with pleasure, he reached down to knead her buttocks the only part of her he could reach easily, pinned under her. The pleasure rolled over him and he tried futilely to thrust upwards, but remained under her control as she sucked, licked and nibbled on the now rock hard shaft. Her hands drew his legs away from one another, his right leg until it was nearly level with his hip.

He bit back a moan of disappointment when she released his cock and tilted his head back, prepared for the return of her drinking from his still bleeding throat.

Her teeth sank in and he jerked in surprise, his hips held firmly down on the bed. She hadn't drank from his thigh since Dicte. The fire swept all rational thought away and he lost himself in the flames.

He came, shuddering violently from the force, and while he recovered, Silver licked him clean and took his cock back in her mouth. By the time he could think again, his body was already thrusting into her mouth beyond his control and she had turned around. She left his wildly thrusting hips and roughly kissed her way up to his throat leaving little bite marks up his body before straddling him. The feel of her sliding down his aching cock made him moan and twist under her until she sat firmly against his hips.

Their bodies danced the eternal rhythm and he returned her hungry kisses eagerly, even knowing she would drink from him further. He didn't care. All that mattered was she was alive. Giving her his blood, giving her of his life-force, that was part and parcel of being her husband. She nibbled down his jaw, her teeth drawing more blood, until he could feel her on his throat. Tilting his head back, McQueen opened himself to her.

A groan dragged its way from his throat as she bit into him just as hard as earlier. He struggled for air as she drank, so tightly did her mouth clamp over his throat, her teeth digging deeper into his flesh. The delicious headiness of her drinking overcame him as his body drove itself to climax. He cried out, barely audible, body rigid, his fingers digging into her hips, never feeling her withdraw from his throat as she came.

He returned to his senses to find her snuggled down beside him, her arm over his chest. The hospital gown had been drawn over them both and he smiled down at the top of her head. Gently and tiredly, he reached up to stroke her hair. "Lysa?"

"Yes, Ty. I'm all here." She tilted her head up and kissed him. "Thanks."

"Well, I'd say you're grounded in this world now." He managed a chuckle, wincing as his throat reminded him it had been savaged.

"Indeed." She propped herself on her elbow and slashed her wrist open. "Drink, Ty. I took too much from you."

Feeling lightheaded, he had to agree and drank the offered blood, pushing her away after several deep swallows. "I'll be ok. You're the one returning from death's door, you know."

"I know."

He heard the sorrow in her voice. "You know, don't you?"

"About the baby?" She sighed heavily, burrowing against his side. "Yes."

"How?"

"Jalke. I know we talked a lot. I'm not sure about what else exactly. It's still not quite real to me. I don't even know how long I've been gone. Time is different there."

As he spoke, McQueen rubbed his thumb over her jaw, enjoying the feel of her. "Not even a full day. I was in shock after Connelly told me I had to decide between you and the baby. Vansen and the squad poured enough scotch down me to damn near kill me. I slept for six hours. The docs kept you in a sedated state for twelve hours."

"So, what happened?"

"You were poisoned. Some damned thing developed during the AI War. Someone on board gave it to you at dinner." It took every ounce of will power to not tighten up, to just keep stroking her.

"Who?" She stiffened.

He heard the sharpness in her voice. "I don't know, not for sure. Glen warned the squad and me that if we interfered with the investigation that we'd regret it. He doesn't want whoever it is to walk away from this because we screwed the pooch. So, we've been leaving it to the security chief. He's questioned everyone except you by now." Squeezing her taut shoulder, he said, "They'll let us know once they've got the person."

It took her several minutes to relax and run her hand along his ribs lightly. "I won't interfere. I don't want the person who killed our baby to get away with it."

"Neither do I. Love, let's sleep for a bit. Ok?"

"Ok."

He lay there, caressing her shoulder and back until she slept, a normal sleep, and let himself do the same for the first time since he had awakened from his alcohol-induced slumber.


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter Fourteen - 2 Souls Bound Page 20

Disclaimer: The names of all 'Space: Above and Beyond' characters contained herein are the property of Glen Morgan and James Wong, Hard Eight Productions and the Fox Broadcasting Network. These names have been used without their permission. All else is my own creation.

Rating: NC17 Language, violence and graphic sex.

Spoilers: None

Warning: Sex, Language.

Author: Vasalysa, with many undying thanks to Geek and Kaballa.

E-Mail: 

2 Souls Bound

Chapter Fourteen

The smell of food roused McQueen from his slumber. Opening his eyes, he saw Finch crouched by the door while a tray of sandwiches and water sat close to where he lay curled around Silver. He carefully reached over her to drag the tray closer, his stomach growling.

"Thanks," he said quietly.

"Figured you might be hungry. It's been almost nine hours."

He plucked the blanket covering him and Silver. "You?"

"Hawkes. He snuck in after an hour or so, I guess." Finch hesitated before asking, "How is she?"

"We'll know when she wakes up again."

"I'm doing ok, Finch." Silver squeezed the arm he had draped across her body. "Go ahead and eat, Ty. I'll take what you don't finish."

"Don't know there will be a lot left." A thought occurred to McQueen and he glanced up sharply. "Where-"

"It's safe. Rollins made it himself under the commodore's watchful eyes." Finch grinned. "Commodore's not taking any chances. Plus, the doctors scanned the food for any poisons."

Reassured, McQueen propped himself up on his elbow and grabbed a sandwich. He could smell the roast beef and swiss which made him acutely aware of the fact he was starving. The sandwich disappeared in four bites despite the pain in his throat when he swallowed.

"Clean clothes for you both are in the closet," Finch said as he reached for a second sandwich. "The commodore said he would like to speak with you, sir, when you feel up to it. He said he would understand if you didn't right away."

"I'll go see him after the doctors have looked Lysa over." He ate half the sandwich before taking one of the tall glasses of water. "Lysa, drink the other one. You could use the fluids."

Sitting up, unabashed at her nakedness as the blanket fell to her waist, Silver took the other glass. "Yes, sir." She smiled briefly before drinking.

Finch waited until the sandwiches were gone before speaking again. "I'll take the tray out and let the doctors know it's safe to come in. Say, in half an hour?"

"Sounds good." Silver settled against McQueen's body, resting her head on her arm and tugging the blanket up to cover her.

McQueen set the empty glasses on the tray and said, "Thank you, Finch."

"Not a problem, sir."

Once Finch was gone, keeping the door from swinging on the way out, Silver pushed McQueen over onto his back and straddled his hips. "Now, how badly did I hurt you?"

"I'm fine, Lysa." He reached up and cupped her cheek.

"No, you're not. I can see the cuts and bruises on your throat. What else?"

"You didn't do much else this time. Just a bunch of little bites on my jaw and elsewhere."

She leaned forward and licked his throat thoroughly up to his jaw. Back down to his sore throat, she traveled.

The only reason he felt her teeth came from the soreness of his flesh. He moaned, his hands on her shoulders, as pleasure made itself known, sweeping through his system. When she pulled away, he shuddered with the loss, eyes closing.

"Drink." She held her wrist before him.

"You don't need to-" He fell silent at the sharp look she gave him. After several swallows, he pulled away. "That's all I'll take."

She licked the cut closed and kissed him. "Now, close your eyes. Tell your body to heal."

Her words seemed to send him into a light trance and he found himself obeying. He opened his eyes several minutes later, feeling refreshed, not so sore, and aroused from Silver's ministrations while he had been healing. Before he could say a word, she sucked on his cock, swirling her tongue over the head. She started dipping her tongue in and out of the slit, making his hips buck, while her hand massaged his balls.

He groaned in frustration when she pinned his thrusting hips to the deck with her knees, but quickly didn't care as she alternated between sucking on his cock and using her tongue on the sensitive slit. Before he could climax, she gave one last suck and kissed her way up his body, stopping at his heaving chest long enough to lick and nibble his nipples to erectness.

As they kissed, he rolled her onto her back, reaching between her legs to make sure she was ready. She parted her legs, wrapping them around his waist. Sliding in easily, McQueen reined in his desire to pound away, wanting to enjoy the feel of her around him. For several minutes, she let him go slow. She reached up and caressed his navel, making him groan as the fire flared up.

He yanked his head up out of reach. "No, I want to-"

"We don't have time, Ty. Not if we're going to shower and be neat and tidy by the time the doctors arrive." Her eyes met his fiercely, glowing green with her passion. "Come on. I know you want to go hard and fast. Do it."

For a second, he hesitated, but knew she was right. Once she was released, they could take it slow. He dropped his head to her shoulder as he slid his hands up under her to curl over her shoulders. Several more slow, deep thrusts came before he released his control. Hard and fast, he pounded into her, feeling her meet his every thrust. He heard her grunt and groan as she stifled her outcry as she came and felt her tighten around him, sending him over the edge. Her shoulder muffled his own cry as he buried himself deeply in her, lost in the sensations.

He was on his back when he came to himself a moment later and he smiled, reaching down to caress her shoulder as she drank him dry. "Are you all right?"

"Yes, Ty. Your hardest, honest loving can't really hurt me." She turned around and rose to her feet, smoothly. "Come on. Let's go clean up."

"Guess we better let Temple know to have the cleaning staff mop the floor," he said ruefully, standing up. "I've sweated like a dog."

"You're not the only one." Silver led the way to the bathroom. "It's not much of a shower, but it'll do."

"Hey, at least you have one. I've been stuck in here without one."

"I don't think that will happen again so long as we've got this crew." She pushed him into the bathroom with a smile.

The shower went quickly, both aware of the time restraint. When the two doctors arrived, McQueen sat on the bed, his arms around Silver as she cried. Tears ran down his cheeks, wetting her hair.

Connelly paused at the door, reluctant to interrupt. She frowned at Jade as the younger woman pushed past her and was a fraction too slow in catching Jade's arm.

"All right, Silver. Let's check you over," Jade said, still studying the computer pad in her hand.

"God, Jade, you have all the tact of a tack." Connelly shook her head. "Sorry, colonels."

Jade looked up, saw the tears, and froze. Abruptly she turned and fled the room.

Tightening his hold on Silver, McQueen clenched his jaw at Jade's rudeness. He turned his head away from the door, fighting to stop his tears without letting go. Blinking rapidly, he cleared his eyes and rubbed his face against Silver's head to wipe away his tears.

"Colonel, there's no shame in crying. You've suffered a loss you never even had a chance to know you could lose. Don't let me interfere with your grieving." Connelly stepped up, daring to rest her hand lightly on Silver's arm. "Lysa, I know it hurts, but at least you can have other children. This one.... This one, unfortunately, never had a chance. It was only five weeks old."

"It was a miracle that this one was ever conceived," muttered McQueen. "How the hell can we count on it happening again?"

Raising her head and sitting straight, Silver glared at him and said fiercely, "Dammit, I keep telling you. You aren't as bad off as you think. The regeneration worked on all of you, stubborn man. All of you, inside and out." She poked him in the left shoulder. "Think about it. These skin grafts, they're not so bad as they were before you entered the regen tank, right?"

He nodded. "Yes, I know. None of my scars are as bad as they were. I know it intellectually. And I know I just think they are worse because I know what they were. But that one..." He shook his head slowly. "I've lived with that one, and its consequences, for a long time. It's not easy to forget it. Same with some of the other, older scars. It's not so much the physical as the mental scars left by them."

"I know." Silver ran her hand across his damp, stubbly cheek, smiling sadly, ignoring the tears on her face. "And we'll deal with those as necessary. I love you, with all your physical and mental baggage, and I'm not going to let you go for any reason."

"Nor I you." Hugging her, McQueen sighed and finally looking up at Connelly. "I suppose I'm being evicted for this exam."

"Afraid so. I need to talk to her, one on one."

Seeing that Connelly felt uncomfortable, McQueen decided to risk speaking. "I'm not an ogre, Connelly, even if I sometimes act like one. You've never treated me like I'm less than a man, or as a thing, and I respect you for that. You've taken all the weird things that have happened in stride and not run away screaming. You're a good doctor, and, more importantly, a good person. I will listen to you because of that." He was surprised to see a blush creep up Connelly's cheeks.

"Em, thank you, Colonel. I appreciate the vote of confidence." Connelly hesitated, then said, "You might want to use the bathroom and clean up before you leave."

"Probably a good idea. Thank you." Kissing Silver on the head, he turned and set her down beside him before sliding off the bed. "How long must I stay away?" he asked quietly.

"A couple of hours would be good."

"Then I'll be back in two hours." He strode to the bathroom and washed his face, taking a moment to forcibly shove the urge to shed more tears firmly to the rear of his mind. Neither woman had moved when he came out. "Later, love."

"Later."

Her sending of love nearly undid him and he staggered under it. The warmth withdrew and he caught Silver's eye, giving her a grateful, yet sorrowing smile. When he left Silver's room, he felt barely in control and stopped outside her room to regain it.

Nurse Temple appeared before him, standing quietly, blocking him from the other nurses. "Your lieutenant is waiting outside Sickbay for you. Would you like me to contact the commodore for you?"

His control firmly in place, McQueen nodded once. "Please. If it's what I suspect, then he'll want to contact someone else to meet with us."

"Are you ok?"

"No, I'm not. Someone's tried to kill my wife and killed the baby I never even knew we were having instead. No, I'm not ok."

A slight smile touched Temple's lips at his vehemence. "You're ok."

Shaking his head at her words, McQueen pushed away from the wall and stalked down the corridor, hearing her chuckle behind him.

"Anger is good, colonel, and normal," he heard her say softly to his back.

He slammed out through the door and right past Finch, unaware of how stiff his body was or how his eyes sparked with suppressed rage.

Temple hid her smile at his reaction as she walked to the Nurses' Station to contact the commodore, satisfied that McQueen would be properly prepared for what waited for him.

****

In the elevator, McQueen glanced at his time piece, noting that it was now 2235. He would find his friend and superior in quarters. The elevator stopped on Deck 6 and he strode out, intent on his goal. He pulled up sharply at the sight of Sgt. Briggs obviously waiting for him in the corridor.

The sergeant grabbed a whisk brush from the small table beside him and immediately started brushing off flecks of dirt. "Really, sir. A dirty uniform?"

Thrown off his mental stride, McQueen blinked and glanced down at his uniform, realizing belatedly that Briggs was right. Someone had rummaged through his laundry to find him a flight suit to wear. "It's only the commodore. He's seen me in worse."

"It is not just the commodore. General MacIntyre is here as well as Chief Security Officer Watson. Rumpled will do, but dirty most definitely will not." Satisfied with the outward appearance, Briggs set the whisk brush down and picked up a tumbler of scotch. "Drink it. You'll need it," he stated firmly.

Aware that Briggs was not going to let him in otherwise, McQueen took the tumbler. "That bad?"

"The general is in a foul mood. After all, one of his... shall we say, proteges has been poisoned." Briggs cocked his head to the side with a knowing smile. Before McQueen could ask anything, he added in a low voice, "There are few things that happen around the commodore that I do not know, colonel. Your relationship with the commodore is a good thing, no matter how scuttlebutt perverts it. You've never paid much attention to me before and have no reason to trust me, but I am the commodore's man, no matter what. Through hell, high water or vampires, I stay with him." Abruptly, Briggs snapped, "Drink, man. They're waiting."

Reacting to the sergeant's tone, McQueen obeyed, realizing how well trained he was. He knew all too well that in most field units, it was the sergeant that held the unit together. Officers came and went, but the sergeant stayed. Handing the empty tumbler back, he said, "Thank you, Briggs. For your loyalty... and your silence."

"Thank you, sir." Briggs set the tumbler on the tray, knocked on the door twice and opened the door. "Colonel McQueen, sirs."

McQueen stepped through the door, aware that Finch was taking up position outside beside Briggs. His attention was immediately seized by the sight of the three men in the room. He had long since forgotten that his friend was only an inch or two shorter than himself, but he knew Ross had to be feeling intimidated by the other two men in the room. He had gotten used to MacIntyre's six foot three inch stature on the week long trip from Earth to the fleet, but even the major general was dwarfed by the seven foot tall black man currently staring out the view port. It had been nearly two years since he had last seen Colonel Watson and that had been after a near fatal assault on his person by Invitro-hating crew members. Drugged nearly to insensibility at the time, he remembered very little of the meeting with Watson, only that the man had been gentle in voice and wondering what the hell the man was doing in the military instead of playing basketball.

"Colonel." Ross took a step forward, concern evident in his eyes.

"Commodore." He gripped Ross' hand firmly, answering the unspoken question in his friend's eyes. "She's as well as can be expected. It hurts, bad."

"What an ugly business." Ross shook his head. "The general heard about Silver's collapse and came for an update on the situation."

"The doctors believe she'll make a full recovery and have no difficulty conceiving again at a later time." McQueen understood why Ross was putting distance between them. Watson had no idea of what both MacIntyre and Silver were. In addition, no more fuel needed to be added to the rumor mill about he and Ross being lovers. Enough people referred to him as Ross' lap dog as it stood now.

"I'm pleased to hear it." MacIntyre's usually pleasant tenor voice and his blue eyes held anger. "Colonel Watson has been waiting to fill us in on the search for the culprit responsible. He wanted you to be here."

McQueen stiffened slightly at the hard anger in MacIntyre's voice.

Seeing McQueen's reaction, MacIntyre waved a hand. "Relax, man. I'm not angry at you. I'm furious about the fact that someone I've known for damn nearly twenty years has been poisoned in such a way." He ran a hand through his short brown hair. "Colonel Watson. It's your floor."

"Sit down, everyone." Watson slowly turned from the view port, his lean body ramrod straight. He waited until everyone had obeyed before speaking again. "Thanks to suggestions from the 58th squadron about the dinner they were served, my people have been able to determine the person responsible. And no, it is not Master Sergeant Rollins." He gave a quick smile before sobering again. "Though I suspect he'll be upset when I have to inform him that one of his personnel is responsible for Colonel Silver's near fatal illness and the death of a child."

"Your proof?" asked MacIntyre sharply.

"We found the substance in the person's quarters. I also have a taped confession."

The words burst from McQueen before he could even think of stopping them. "Why? Why did they do it?"

"The person wanted you, Colonel, for themselves. My psychologists have examined this person and they've determined that, having grown up from childhood an orphan with little love or true caring in their lives, this person learned to take whatever they wanted. This person also appears to have suffered severe mental strain during the battle at Dicte and Tellus. The strain ripped apart all restraint that this person usually kept. So, this person decided to poison Colonel Silver. This person has expressed sorrow over the death of the fetus, but considers it the price paid to get you, Colonel McQueen."

Sheer disbelief made McQueen drop his head into his hands. "Oh, god, what a mess."

"I have to agree, Colonel." Watson sighed. "My problem now is what to do with this person. My psychologists do not believe this person capable of being a useful member of society again and it would not be prudent to have this person remain in the military. I cannot keep this person in the brig forever."

MacIntyre's gaze hardened. "Execute the prisoner."

Silence fell on the room. MacIntyre broke the silence first. "The twenty-ninth amendment allows for the commanding officer of an army, or fleet, to administer capital punishment on a military member during war-time for criminal offenses without court martial. Murder, especially in such an underhanded and obviously pre-meditated manner, fits my take on the amendment."

"We will need to have incontrovertible proof for later, General." Watson slowly shook his head. "I'm not saying not to do it. I'm just stating you better make damn sure that we've covered all the bases."

"You have the substance. You have a confession. What else do we need?"

"I think we better hold at least a court martial." Still standing straight, Watson looked at McQueen. "Do you understand, Colonel?"

Taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly, McQueen nodded. "You're right. I do not want this to come back and haunt me or any of us. A court martial will at least show we followed the articles of war."

"Very well, then do so. I want this over and done with ASAP." MacIntyre rose. The look he ran over Watson would have reduced a lesser man to fear. "I will await a report on the matter."

Once MacIntyre had stalked out of the room, Watson slowly relaxed and leaned against the wall. "OK, will someone please tell me why the hell that man is so bent out of shape over this?"

McQueen answered softly. "He considers himself to be one of Silver's older brothers."

"Great. I can only hope he lets me do this right. If it is screwed up, we'll all regret it."

"He will. He cares too much for her to allow this to haunt her." McQueen sighed. "What do you need from Silver and me for this court martial?"

"At this time, nothing. I may not need you at all. I may be able to do this with just the physicians."

"Ok. Can I go then? I need to talk to the squadron."

"Go on, Colonel."

McQueen nodded to Ross and left, picking up his shadow on the way down the corridor. In the elevator, he saw Finch fidgeting. "What is it, Lieutenant?"

"What do you need to talk to us about, sir?"

"I just want to make sure that everyone understands not to interfere in the investigation, especially now." McQueen sighed. "Anyone mucking it up now will screw up the entire case. The person could go free."

"Don't worry, sir, none of us want that. Even Hawkes has curbed his impatience remarkably well." She followed him off the elevator.

Well aware of how Hawkes considered him the closest thing he'd ever get to a father, McQueen shook his head. "That is a miracle."

"Why don't you go to your quarters and rest, sir? I can let everyone know that they need to continue keeping from interfering with the investigation."

The thought held some appeal. He really didn't feel like facing the squadron right now. "A sound suggestion. Finch, has anyone interviewed the squadron on this matter?"

"Security Chief Watson himself, sir. While you were with Silver after she woke up. He talked to everyone. Thoroughly." Finch shivered. "The man is as relentless as one of those terriers you read about. He made sure he had everyone's vaguest impressions of the dinner."

"I don't doubt it." Pausing outside his quarters, McQueen said, "I'll be ready in eighty mikes."

"Yes, sir. Vansen will be here then."

He typed in the lock code. "Thank you." He quickly ducked through the door before she could say anything else.

Inside, he sat on the bed, wishing that Silver was there. He wanted to hold her, feel her, help her deal with her grief, and have her help him with his. Curling up on the bed, he pulled her pillow close, resting his head on it and breathed in her strawberry shampoo scent. Tentatively, he reached out mentally to her, letting her feel his love, wanting to let her know how he still felt. His sending was returned, her warmth mingled with her sorrow, but still managing to buoy him up.

Sleep stole over McQueen .

****

A soft, perfunctory knock woke McQueen and he rolled off the bed with a curse. A glance at his time piece showed it had been ninety minutes since he'd laid down. "Coming," he called, running a hand through his hair, hoping it looked neat enough.

As he opened the door, he saw Vansen's relieved look. "I was getting a bit worried, sir. You did say eighty mikes. I thought I'd wait a bit, in case...."

"I fell asleep." He started to close the door, turning around to lock it.

Alarm klaxons blared and McQueen groaned. He was in no shape to fly. "Go, Vansen. I'll be on the bridge."

"Sir-"

"No one's going to get to me there. Send Monty if you're so worried. Just bring back the squad."

"Yes, sir."

As she trotted toward the far elevator, he took the nearest staircase. It was only one floor and he could use the opportunity to get his blood flowing.

In the middle of authorizing squadron launches, McQueen saw Monty enter the bridge, taking up station by the door. He nodded to the sergeant once without interrupting his work.

****

McQueen leaned back in his chair wearily, yanking his headset off and dropping it onto the console. He took the coffee mug handed him gratefully, giving Monty a nod of appreciation. Hot, sweet, and laced with a flavor he couldn't immediately identify, McQueen drank it down with relief. The flavor came to him. Monty had spiked the coffee with some of Silver's scotch.

"The Joint Chiefs weren't kidding when they said the Chigs might try to push through here," groused Ross, leaning against the console. "That was a major attempt and it took our not so little fleet damned near six hours to push it back. I think I better call for some backup."

"Sounds like a damn good idea, sir." McQueen looked over at Monty. "Any more of that coffee, sergeant?"

"Why, yes, sir, there just so happens to be." Monty approached, a large thermos in hand. "I learned to keep it handy. It picked Terrilli right up after a battle so he could get what he had to do done before crashing." He filled the empty mug McQueen held out.

"I think it'll work just fine here. Thank you, sergeant." McQueen handed the mug to Ross. "I think you could use a drink, commodore."

Ross nodded his thanks and smiled as he handed the mug back after his drink. "Definitely a picker upper. Thank you, sergeant. Perhaps, Colonel, the sergeant should be on the bridge during all battles like this. It would be more useful than his sitting in barracks."

Swinging his chair around, McQueen asked, "Well, sergeant, how does that idea sound to you?"

"Sounds good to me, sir."

"Then as of right now, during all space battles, your position is to be on this bridge and supply the commodore, myself and any bridge crew who need it with your special brew." McQueen stood up. "Now, if you'll excuse me, commodore. I have an appointment to keep and I plan on not being available for several hours afterward."

"Go on, Colonel. It is so noted."

Ross watched as Monty followed McQueen off the bridge, the sergeant shaking his head and muttering about how he was going to have to find a _much_ bigger thermos.

****

In Sickbay, McQueen clenched his jaw at the sight of six crew members stretched out on gurneys in the hallway, being tended by nurses and aides. He skirted around them, wondering if Silver had already been kicked out to make room for the injured. Looking through the door window, he found that Silver paced restlessly in her room. They embraced, holding tightly to one another, not speaking, just needing the contact.

A quiet knock preceded the door opening several minutes later and Connelly entered, alone. "Colonels."

Pulling apart, the two officers turned to face her, noticing that the doctor looked tired and that traces of blood were visible on her white lab coat.

"Silver, you're cleared for light duty. Please, take it easy for the next several days. Your body has been through a massive shock and not even being what you are will erase it." Sliding her computer pad into a coat pocket, Connelly smiled sadly. "I am truly sorry for your loss. I do know something of what you're going through. I lost my first child, not to poison, but in a stupid accident that nearly killed me. Only the efforts of the dedicated medical personnel kept me alive. I wasn't as fortunate as you, Silver. The father hadn't stuck around once he knew I was pregnant. So, I became a doctor." Connelly shrugged. "I was young, stupid and foolish. I paid the price."

"You're a good doctor and a good person, Connelly." Silver gently touched the doctor's arm, sensing the subject remained a sensitive one despite the calm, even tone.

"Ah, hell, call me Aggie."

McQueen raised an eyebrow. "Aggie?"

"Short for Agatha. Can you believe it? It's a family name and I had the misfortune of being the first girl born. So they hung it on me." Again Connelly shrugged, this time with a slight smile. "I broke tradition and named my daughter Elizabeth, though she prefers Beth. My son is Douglas, which he will tell you he loathes, yet he absolutely hates it when someone shortens it to Doug."

"I always hated it when people would call me Lisa." Silver smiled. "So, Dr. Aggie, how long is my light duty?"

"A full week. I want to see you when the week is up. I know Jade is your squadron doctor, but I have a vested interest in you." Connelly patted Silver's hand and turned toward the door. "Now, I must shoo you out. We have people coming out of surgery who are going to need the room and we still need to clean it up."

"See you later, doctor." Silver opened the door and motioned for Connelly to go first.

McQueen took the door from Silver and followed her out. He held the door open long enough for two aides to enter with cleaning equipment. In the hallway, he saw Connelly hurrying to a man coughing up blood. He slid his hand under Silver's elbow and walked with her out of Sickbay.

"Any where you want to go?" he asked quietly.

"Just our quarters."

He heard the weariness in her voice. "What do you need?"

"For now, just you." She waited until they were in the elevator, alone, before adding, "I want my husband, Ty. I want you to hold me and help keep me from drowning in my grief."

His throat tight with sudden tears, McQueen nodded, blinking rapidly to keep tears from falling. He followed her to their quarters, wondering who was going to take care of him.

Silver stopped in the crowded corridor beside their door and the looks on the two colonels' faces caused everyone to walk well around them. She looked at him, promising softly, "I will, love."

Once the door was shut and locked behind them, McQueen wrapped his arms around his wife, letting the tears fall. It was several minutes before they approached the bed, their faces wet, their throats aching. He sat her down on the bed, removed her boots and pushed her down so that she stretched out on the bed. His boots quickly joined hers and he settled down beside her on his side, arranging it so that her head was on his chest and his chin rested on her head. Arms wrapped around one another, they took comfort in each other.

McQueen's eyes slowly closed and his breathing evened out as sleep stole over him, easing the ache inside. A smile curved his lips as he felt Silver snuggle in closer and they both slept, exhausted by their grief.

****

Slipping from a dream of making love to Silver into wakefulness, McQueen found that reality had been influencing his dreams. Somehow he had slept through the process of having his clothes taken off, no doubt helped to remain unaware by his wife. Her hands kneaded while they roamed his body while her mouth and tongue licked and sucked on his hard shaft.

He reached down, urging her to move up his body by gently tugging on her chin. Kisses, licks and nibbles marked her progress until they were able to kiss. He slid his hands down her body to cup and knead her buttocks before he rolled her onto her back and eased his way into her warmth. Progress was easy and he started thrusting into her, kissing her all the while, keeping it slow and steady.

They took it slow, taking the time to please one another and enjoy themselves fully, making an effort to leave the frenzied and hurried lovemaking from the last several times behind. Gradually, they turned their attention to finishing until they were going hot and heavy. Silver climaxed first, her muscles tightening and sending him over the edge. Content, they snuggled again, while they waited for their breathing to even out.

He stroked her hair and sighed. "Sa, what are we going to do?"

"We go on, love. It's all we can do, Ty. There will be other children, Ty." Kissing his jaw, running her tongue over the stubble she found there, she smiled. "It was bad timing, all around."

"Lysa, how did you get pregnant?" He levered himself up on an elbow.

She grinned at him. "Well, let's see. You and this," she caressed the proper anatomy, "certainly had something to do with it."

Shaking his head and unable to keep from smiling, he said, "Stupid question. What I meant was how were you able to be pregnant? Haven't you been taking the contraceptives?"

"No, Ty, and I won't start. I've never taken them. They make me sick and they interfere with my abilities." She kissed him. "If I get pregnant again, we'll make any decisions then. Until then, I'm not going to worry about it. If it happens, it happens."

"Easy for you to say."

"No, it's not, Ty, and you know it." She slapped his chest lightly.

"Yes, I do know it. I shouldn't have said it."

"You said it because...."

Realizing she wanted him to answer, he closed his eyes and took a steadying breath. "Because it seems so damned easy for you. After all, you've got Cassie. This would have been my very first child." He turned his head away in shame.

"Ty, our first child will be just as special to me as Cassie. It will be our child, the product of our love. As much as I love Cassie, she will never have the ultimate security of knowing that her parents loved one another. Ours will."

He nodded jerkily.

"Our child will have what you never had, love. Parents who love one another and love him or her. That's what's keeping me going. Knowing what our child will have." She stroked his cheek. "Just remember that. It might help."

He felt tears starting again and buried his face in her shoulder.

Rubbing his back and shoulder, she said, "You know, Ty, I won't make fun of you if you cry. You don't have to hide it from me."

"I can't help it. I learned it early. In the mines. The only tears they wanted to see were those of pain. So we learned to hide them."

"I understand." She reached back down and caressed him. "Shall we divert your attention for now?"

"No." He wiped the tears away and rolled onto his back. "I just want to hold you now."

"Easily done."

After a while, McQueen felt Silver stir. "What is it?"

"Hate to tell you, but I'm going to need the trio." She levered herself up on an elbow to look into his face. "And no, you're not an option right now. I've done enough to you already. It's their turn." She ran her fingers lightly over the barely visible marks left on his throat.

"I figured you'd need them eventually." McQueen managed a brief smile. "Guess I better shower before I fetch them."

"Shower, yes, but I can fetch them myself."

"I forgot."

They shared a shower and he tucked her into bed once he had dressed in his last clean flight suit. "I"ll just wait here until they arrive. Then I think I better drop off some stuff for the laundry."

"Excellent idea, love. You know, I can help gather it up."

"No, you did the last batch. It's my turn." In minutes he had filled two duffel bags with laundry, sorted into his and hers. "Just hope the laundry is up the the challenge."

Eying the stuffed duffles, Silver asked laughing, "Think you can manage all that?"

Drawing himself up straight and grinning, he answered, "I, ma'am, am a Marine, not some wimpy Army fellow. Of course I can manage." He tossed the duffles toward the door, smiling.

A quick knock sounded and he opened the door, letting Finch, St. John and Russell in. To his surprise, Hawkes stood outside. He glanced over at Silver. "I'll be back in a few hours."

"I'll find you at Glen's?"

"Yes."

"Ok."

McQueen shut the door, making sure that it locked, then looked at Hawkes. "Didn't you already do a turn?"

"Yes, sir. But I wanted to talk to you."

Seeing the nervous way Hawkes glanced at him and then away, McQueen realized it would be a difficult talk. "On my six, Lieutenant."

"Yes, sir."

McQueen dropped the laundry duffles off and then took Hawkes to his quarters turned office. He locked the door behind them and motioned for Hawkes to take a chair. "Ok, Hawkes, what is it?"

"Sir, how is Silver taking it? Losing the baby and all?"

"As well as can be expected."

Hawkes gave him a sharp look. "That's a pat answer, sir."

"It happens to be the truth, Hawkes."

"And you, sir?"

"I'm coping. I'd love to kill whoever did this but..." McQueen shrugged. "That is out of my hands."

"Sir, everyone in the squad feels your pain. We just don't know how to show our support."

"You've been doing just fine so far."

Hawkes shook his head. "I'm not, sir. It's ripping me apart, knowing you were forced to choose."

The mask slipped, allowing McQueen to see the scared and angry eight year old Hawkes really was. "Hawkes, you don't need to take it so personally. We'll have other children. Ones I'm sure the squad will spoil rotten given half a chance."

"But this was the first." Tears started running down Hawkes' cheeks.

Alarmed, McQueen started to retreat from the situation. Hawkes' crying was not something he figured he could handle. Mentally panicking, McQueen opened his mouth, ready to utter any excuse in order to escape. Warmth flooded him, giving him needed support, and he realized that it would only make the situation worse and not make Hawkes feel any better.

He sighed. "Yes, Hawkes, it would have been the first. We're just going to have to live with it. There's nothing we can do to change anything."

Hawkes scrubbed at his face, dropping his eyes to the floor, clearly ashamed to be crying. "I'm sorry, sir, I don't mean to cry."

Prompted by the warmth his wife was sending him, McQueen knew what he had to do. If he was to be a father to his biological children, he might as well start practicing on Hawkes. He rose and moved over to the bed, patting the spot beside him. "Come here, Hawkes."

Wiping his face with his sleeve, Hawkes obeyed.

McQueen pulled Hawkes closer, holding the younger Invitro. "Let it out, Hawkes. Don't be ashamed. Just let go and we'll talk about it when you're done."

He held Hawkes as suddenly great body racking sobs over took the young man, reminding McQueen of the way Finch had cried after Silver had taken an intelligence mission extremely deep into Chig territory. The mission had been very important, but classified as having a low probability of survival. Silver had managed to survive, barely, until the squadron had reached her for extraction.

Feeling Hawkes' sobs ease, McQueen rubbed the young man's back. "Take it easy, Hawkes."

Hawkes loosened his tight grip around McQueen's waist and started to sit up.

The kiss on his jaw startled McQueen. "Hawkes, I don't think-"

Hawkes pulled McQueen's head down and kissed him thoroughly.

Despite his initial desire to pull away, McQueen found himself returning the kiss. He knew Silver was deeply involved at the moment with the trio, enjoying their bodies and blood. Hawkes' hand slid provocatively down his chest and stomach to between his thighs, cupping his hardening cock.

"Don't think what, sir?" asked Hawkes, grinning, his eyes twinkling with mischief and desire.

"We shouldn't be doing this, Hawkes. Not on the 'Toga." McQueen's breath hitched as Hawkes' kneaded. "Hawkes-" His voice came out strangled and he felt his body responding eagerly.

Hawkes pushed McQueen backwards and straddled his hips. Pulling the flight suit zipper down, Hawkes slipped his hands underneath to roll and tweak McQueen's nipples. "Sure, sir?"

McQueen's resistance faded and he moaned, sensing Silver's approval.

Grinning, Hawkes said, "As they say in an old TV show, 'Resistance is futile.'"

McQueen groaned, partly in desire, partly at the quote. When Hawkes pushed the shirts up, leaning over to lick and suck on a nipple, he surrendered the battle, reaching up to run his hands through the rich chestnut hair.

"Way to go, TC."

McQueen's lips quirked at the name he and Hawkes had agreed on using during such private moments. "Just what do you have in mind, Coop?"

"Well, last time we did this, you didn't get anything out of it. So..."

"Not quite the truth. It felt great, but I had just finished a heavy sex marathon. I think seven times in three hours was a bit much to expect." McQueen chuckled.

"Guess so." Hawkes glanced up, serious. "Is it a problem as you get older?"

"Oh, no, you don't. You started this, you damned well better finish it before starting such a conversation." McQueen reached up to unzip Hawkes' flight suit. Sliding a hand up underneath the khaki tank top, he rolled a nipple and grinned as Hawkes flung his head back. "Fair's fair."

"Y... yeah." panted Hawkes. He shrugged his flight suit down to his waist, making sure to wriggle about while doing so. As McQueen moaned, Hawkes tugged the other man's flight suit down and pulled the two shirts up over McQueen's head and arms. He could feel the hardness of McQueen's erection trapped between them and leaned forward to resume working on McQueen's nipples, pressing downward with his own groin.

Deciding he'd had enough of Hawkes' teasing, McQueen flipped the younger Invitro over onto his back, straddled his hips and kissed Hawkes while running his hands down under the shorts' band to tease the head of the trapped cock. He felt Hawkes buck under him and shifted backward onto the lean thighs, effectively pinning Hawkes to the bed. Recalling how Hawkes had pinned him to the bed the first time, he couldn't help grinning, realizing it had been nearly a year since their first time, and it had been right here in his quarters.

Yanking Hawkes' flight suit down under his buttocks, McQueen sat back, keeping himself out of reach. Especially that first time, Hawkes had done all the prep work and he intended to rectify that. He twisted his upper body about and one-handedly started unlacing Hawkes' boots while using the other hand to lightly stroke the hard shaft under the single layer of cloth.

"I... should do that." Hawkes twisted on the bed, moaning.

"And what rulebook says you have to do all the work?" One boot off, the other was tackled next and McQueen thought about his own boots. Once both of Hawkes' boots were on the floor, he lifted a foot toward his back and proceeded to undo the laces by feel.

"Damn, I can't do that."

"Practice in the dark or hanging upside down. You never know when you have to lose a boot to save your life." McQueen shoved the boot off his foot and started on the next one. By the time the second one hit the floor, his other hand had Hawkes fighting to keep his hands away.

With a suddenness that had Hawkes crying out softly, McQueen stood up and stripped the flight suit off Hawkes. His own followed seconds later, his shorts still in it, and he crouched before Hawkes, easing the last layer of fabric back from the twitching cock. He felt Hawkes' fingers run through his short hair as he started licking the revealed flesh, enjoying the taste of the pre-cum dribbling out.

When McQueen tugged the shorts down and off, Hawkes started to roll over, only to jerk to a stop when his aching cock became buried in McQueen's mouth. Neither time they had sex had McQueen gone down on him and he shivered, wondering if he dared to pull away. The decision was taken away from him by McQueen when he shoved him flat again. A needy moan escaped Hawkes as over half his length disappeared into the warmth of McQueen's mouth. His back arched and he clawed at the blankets as he became aware of the difference between intellectually knowing McQueen had done things like this for five years in the Omicron mines and the actual reality of the man working on deep throating him.

"You do.... don't have.... to," he groaned, desperately wanting McQueen to continue.

McQueen's eyes crinkled with laughter and he sucked hard while burying the entire length of Hawkes' cock in his mouth and throat. The bucks Hawkes made as he started to bob up and down pleased him and he made sure he had Hawkes securely pinned on the bed. He worked Hawkes until the other was incoherent and frantically seeking to take over the action. The sobbing need in Hawkes' moaned "No," as he let the rampant, dripping cock slide free made McQueen grin and he reached down to fumble with Hawkes' flight suit, finding what he was looking for in the lower right leg pocket.

"You still taking 'lessons' from Russell and St. John?" McQueen asked, using the tube's contents liberally.

"We're teaching each other now," managed Hawkes.

Realizing this meant that Hawkes was used to what he was about to do, McQueen still prepared to ease in. He lifted Hawkes' legs over his shoulders and positioned himself, seeing Hawkes' anticipatory grin. Steadily pushing in, McQueen was unprepared for Hawkes to tighten his legs and thrust his hips upward, impaling himself with a soft cry.

"Oh, yeah, that feels good."

"Spoil sport," groused McQueen quietly.

"No need to take it slow."

Shaking his head at the Hawkes' obvious need for speed, McQueen set a slow rhythm, intending to draw it out. Five minutes went by before he gave into the urgings of Hawkes for more speed. Driving deep into Hawkes, he gripped the bucking hips firmly and released his control, allowing himself to take Hawkes at full power. Hawkes met every thrust, his face flushed with desire and pleasure.

Hawkes climaxed, shuddering and crying out, and McQueen followed the sensations of Hawkes' muscles tightened around him enough to drive him over the edge. Dropping forward, McQueen sobbed for breath and slowly rolled to the side, pulling free.

A moment later, Hawkes rose, heading for the bathroom. He returned with a warm washcloth and started cleaning McQueen up.

The washcloth returned to the bathroom, Hawkes sat down beside McQueen, running his hand over the short, almost white hair. "You didn't want to do this at first, TC. Why did you stop fighting me? I would have stopped if you had kept on resisting." Hawkes leaned over and lightly kissed McQueen.

McQueen used the kiss as time to collect his thoughts. He sat up and reached for his clothes. "A number of reasons. One was you needed me to do it. Why, I'm not exactly sure, but you needed it."

Hawkes reddened, staring at his hands. "I can't explain it."

"Do you at least know why, Coop?"

"I think so." Hawkes grabbed his shorts and started putting them on.

"Then that is all that matters." McQueen waited until he had dressed in his shorts and tank top before speaking again. "Another reason was I needed to do it."

"Aren't you getting enough sex?"

At the surprise in Hawkes' voice, McQueen shook his head. "That's not the problem. What's the problem is what happened and what is happening right now. We've made love several times and she hurt me initially when she came out of the drugged sleep. She won't drink from me now, but she will take the trio. I'm not useful to her at the moment.... and that hurts."

"But she needs more than what you can give her. Even I know that." Hawkes stopped in the act of pulling on a sock and gently turned McQueen's head toward him. "She loves you. Anyone with eyes can see that. You yourself knew that you had to share her with others to keep her in good health." His dark blue eyes searched the ice blue ones. "Oh, god, TC, don't lose sight of it. Don't let what one insane person did make you doubt yourself or her."

"I know that in my head, but.... emotionally... Well, that's a different story." McQueen sighed, twisting the turtleneck in his hands. "I want to be able to fulfill all of her needs and I can't do that. And I know I can't." He threw the turtleneck at the head of the bed.

Hawkes grew still. "Sir..."

"What?" snapped McQueen. When he saw how still Hawkes sat, he realized he was venting at the wrong person. "Sorry. What is it?"

"If... if I offer myself to her, to become one of her Remal, will you hate me?"

"No," rolled instantly off McQueen's lips immediately followed by, "I really don't know, Hawkes. I don't want to. Hakur knows I don't want to hate anyone whom she needs."

Silently, Hawkes dressed. He stood before McQueen, his eyes dark and solemn. "The commodore said you were off duty for the next twenty-four hours. I think perhaps you better stay here for a bit, sir."

"I think you're right." McQueen flung himself down onto his bed and rolled over, facing the wall. He heard the door open and close.

His mood darkened as he started to wallow in his grief and longing. Wrapped in his self-pity, he didn't hear the door open some time later.

"Oh, Ty, why didn't you just come and talk to me about it?" Silver sat on the bed, her thigh against his back, her hand resting lightly on his arm. "I know this is hard on you, love. If it weren't necessary, I wouldn't be using the trio. Problem is, the whole reason I'm alive is because my invisible other half damned near killed us fighting the poison. It needs life force to heal itself and you were taken too far down after my awakening. That's part of why you're having trouble dealing with this. When your life force is drained too far, dark thoughts run rampant. And as much as I love to do it, drinking more from you now, with it still as hungry as it is..." She shook her head. "It could easily drink you to death. I don't want to lose you, Ty. You mean more to me than my own life."

Twisting around, McQueen took her hand in his. "I'm being pretty petty about this, aren't I? It's just...."

"It's just human, Ty." She smiled gently. "You received a shock that shook you to the core. Then you lost a lot of life force which has not helped you regain your equilibrium."

"Dammit, Sa. You were the one at death's door. I should be the one comforting you."

"I do need you to do so, love, but not with you in this state. It's no good for either of us." Her smile turned sad. "It's going to take time, love, to recover from this and it's going to take the both of us."

He wrapped his arms around her and rested his head on her thigh. "I'm sorry."

"You don't need to be sorry, love." She stroked his hair, enjoying the feel of it and letting him feel her enjoyment.

"How did you know? Did Hawkes-"

"I knew before he showed up. I wanted you to have a good time and you were. I felt it. Then you darkened and I knew I had to come to you. First I had to take care of Hawkes. The poor boy felt it was all his fault. After a brief talking to, I left him with the trio. They'll take care of him." Her other hand rubbed his back and she felt faint tremors start to course through him. "Sleep, Ty. I'll be here when you wake up. Everything will feel better then. I'm sorry you've had to go through this."

"You weren't the one who used poison. There's nothing you could have done to prevent it." His voice sounded thick as he fought not to cry again.

"And neither could you."

It took nearly half an hour before he finally allowed himself to sleep. She waited a few minutes before tilting his head back and pressing her bleeding wrist to his lips. "Drink, love. Heal. For both our sakes."

Afterward, she curled up before him, wrapping his arms around her, and waited.

He woke a while later, squeezing her lightly. "Ok, I'm awake. What did you do?"

"Gave you some back." She held his arms, keeping him from releasing her. "It needed to be done. You wouldn't have sunk so low if you had been closer to normal."

"And what about you? How are you going to keep yourself fed?" He jerked his arms free.

Twisting around to face him, she said, "Ty, I need you. You're my rock, my life-line. Yes, I need to drink from you, but you don't need to be reduced to such levels to keep me going."

"And will you drink from me again?"

"Yes. Tomorrow night. You'll have had time to recover. Be more yourself and not be as affected by the drinking." She put her finger over his lips. "For now, love, please, just hold me. I need to feel your strength. I'm so tired."

Cursing himself, McQueen pulled her head down against his chest. "Rest then. I will hold you."

He felt her relax and told himself to stop being a fool. He had known the consequences of marrying a vampire and it was too late to back out. They were bound to one another for the rest of their lives. Examining his mental state, he realized that the darkness and despair he had been feeling earlier had gone, allowing him to see things clearly again. He would have to apologize to Hawkes for worrying him. The pain of loss and fear of nearly losing Silver remained, though not as strong. He was healing.

Sleep claimed him a short time later.


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter Fifteen - 2 Souls Bound Page 27

Disclaimer: The names of all 'Space: Above and Beyond' characters contained herein are the property of Glen Morgan and James Wong, Hard Eight Productions and the Fox Broadcasting Network. These names have been used without their permission. All else is my own creation.

Rating: NC17 Language, violence and graphic sex.

Spoilers: None

Warning: Sex, Language.

Author: Vasalysa, with many undying thanks to Geek and Kaballa.

E-Mail: 

2 Souls Bound

Chapter Fifteen

"Thank God, that part's over." Ross strode into his quarters, his fingers yanking at the fastenings of his dress whites. "Briggs!" he bellowed over his shoulder.

"Three scotches are already poured, sir," Briggs said, seemingly to materialize in the room. He batted the commodore's hands away and quickly undid the fastenings. "I'm the one who has to sew the damn thing if you rip them off." As he eased the jacket off Ross, he added, "There are also sandwiches since I doubt any of you ate today."

"True enough, Briggs," Silver said with a tired smile. "Thank you. It is appreciated."

"I also brewed up a pot of coffee. The real stuff. I figured you would need it." Briggs took the ceremonial sword from Ross, laid it across the jacket he somehow managing to hold one-handed, and turned smartly toward the bedroom. "Colonels, I will return in a moment for your jackets and swords."

As Briggs disappeared into the bedroom, McQueen shook his head. "For god's sake, Glen, don't lose that man."

"I don't intend to." Ross watched as the two colonels quickly divested themselves of their black jackets and sword belts.

Briggs appeared, took the jackets and belts and vanished back into the bedroom, muttering under his breath about 'polishing the damn brass properly'.

Silver chuckled and accepted the tumbler that Ross handed her.

As she sank into her usual chair near the bedroom, Ross noticed she lacked her usual graceful movements. Once he and McQueen had their drinks, he asked, "Silver, have you been.... feeding properly? You don't look well."

An eyebrow cocked upward, she answered, "I'm doing what I can. I am limited in what I can do."

Before Ross could say anything, McQueen called out, "Briggs, would you please come here?" He remembered what the sergeant had said a week earlier.

"Sir?" Briggs appeared in the doorway. "Are the drinks not to your liking? It is Silver Scotch, a twenty-five that I made sure was set aside for special occasions. I assumed that this would be one such occasion."

"The scotch is just fine, thank you." McQueen set his tumbler on the arm of his chair. "No, it's something else. Something you said to me out in that corridor a week ago. The time for secrets is past. Would you please inform the commodore of what you told me?"

Briggs stiffened slightly, gave the three officers a quick look and slowly relaxed again. "Which part do you want, sir?"

"The last part will do just fine."

Facing Ross, Briggs said, "Sir, I am your man, no matter what. Hell, high water, or vampires."

The other two drew their breath in swiftly, Silver turning to McQueen. Ross leaned forward, his voice sharp as he asked, "How long have you known?"

"Almost as long as you have, sir. To do my job correctly, I have to be observant. I have observed, and I've put words, actions and unspoken things together to form a picture. I don't know all the details, I don't need to. All that matters to me is that she's good for him," Briggs gestured to McQueen, "which is good for you." Crossing his arms, Briggs added, "I know how to keep my mouth shut. No one has heard a whisper about any of this from me."

Sinking back into his chair, Ross shook his head. "Good heavens, man. Why did you break your silence?"

"Because the colonel needed to know I was on your side, and consequentially, his side." Briggs straightened. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have work to do."

Ross stared after Briggs, shook his head briefly and downed his scotch. He coughed once and set the tumbler down. "Why did you spring that on me now?"

"So you would know it isn't necessary to hide things from him." McQueen sipped his scotch, settled back into his favorite chair and smiled slightly. "Trying to find ways to get our meanings across without actually saying the damning words gets so damn frustrating. Now we don't need to."

"You're getting pushy in your old age, Ty." Ross smiled to remove any sting. He waited several minutes before asking quietly, "So, tell me honestly. Did the last three days help any?"

McQueen set his empty tumbler on the small table beside his chair with a sigh and closed his eyes as he leaned his head back. "A little, Glen. Not nearly as much as everyone said it would." He felt drained from the last three days. Two days attending the court martial aboard the Bunker Hill, then waiting around most of today for the five judges, drawn from officers and enlisted personnel, to make their final verdict. At least the dress uniforms had been required only today. In addition, after the first day of the court martial, he and Silver had attended the cremation of their unborn daughter, Sara Louise McQueen.

"It helps to know that she won't ever be able to do that to some other unsuspecting couple." Silver placed her half full tumbler down. "In a way I feel sorry for her." As the two men snapped their heads up to stare at her, she shook her head slightly. "I do not condone what she did, for it was evil and wrong, but I can feel somewhat sorry for her."

"What? How?" McQueen shook his head disbelievingly.

"From what Rollins said, Peters became fascinated with you once she saw you. That I can fully understand. This was her first assignment, a ship almost always in the thick of battle. She was twenty-two and not prepared for what she encountered. AeroTech's psych department fell down on the job with her. She should never have been sent into deep space, near battle. I think Dicte destroyed her. Remember what Williamson said? She was one of the extra crew that helped to rebuild the 'Toga both before and after the battle there. Crawling through tunnels barely big enough for a child, let alone a grown-up, coming across bodies or partial bodies of people she had seen every day, forced to go on to stay alive. It warped her and she became fixated on you, love." Silver reached over to squeeze McQueen's hand. "Even Rollins thinks so, now that he's had a chance to look back. See, you became her hero icon. After all, you saved us at Dicte and then devised the plan to take back Tellus. And in her eyes, I wasn't good enough for you. So I had to go."

"Well, I don't feel sorry for her, not in the least." Anger tinged McQueen's voice. He looked at Glen. "When's the execution?"

"Day after tomorrow." Ross grimaced. "I'm not happy about it, but it's not my call."

"It was a stroke of genius on Watson's part to have all five judges be from other ships in the fleet." McQueen stood up, grabbed his tumbler and Ross', and walked over to the bar. "No one can say we forced the judges' decision."

"Has the execution squad been picked?" Silver ran her finger around the rim of her tumbler.

Ross nodded jerkily. "Picked from volunteers this morning, just in case the verdict was guilty. Watson showed me the list of volunteers. Over a hundred people volunteered. Somehow, he picked seven."

"Who's on it?"

"I don't know and neither do the volunteers. Watson said he intends to inform them just before assembling them to go planet side." Ross took the tumbler McQueen gave him. Once McQueen had sat down, he added, "Everyone from the 58th was on the list, even the two newcomers. But some of the names surprised me. Colonel Ramsey of the 64th was one of them. Rollins, Peter's superior, was another one."

"He's a cook, not a soldier." McQueen shook his head.

"I think he feels responsible. That maybe he should have been able to see it coming." Picking up her scotch, Silver said, "I hope this doesn't ruin the man. He's a good man."

"That he is," McQueen acknowledged.

"Look, I know there are some who will take what I'm about to offer the wrong way, but..." Ross hesitated, licked his lips, then continued in a burst of speech. "The planet has life forms. The pair of you could take a transport down.... have damn near thirty hours of real privacy. Get away from all of this and..." he waved fretfully at the surrounding ship, "and do whatever you have to."

When McQueen started to speak, Ross cut him off. "There's nothing here to worry about. No wormholes, no Chigs, no AIs, no alarms, no firefights. That's why we're here. MacIntyre wanted a safe place without interruptions for the court martial and the execution."

"Glen-"

"And God knows you two could do with some serious private time. Look at everything that's happened since you came back from your wedding. And what kind of a honeymoon was that? Two days? I have to-"

"Glen." McQueen made his voice firm, but not loud. Once he had Ross' attention, he said, "It's a good idea. How soon can we get a transport?"

"There's one prepped and ready to go in Transport Bay 7. It's got everything you'd need, except for clothes and the like. Food is already aboard." Ross dropped his gaze to his hands. "There's not much else I can do for you."

Silver rose and lightly touched Ross on the hands. "It's more than enough, Glen. Thank you."

Reaching over to grip his friend's shoulder firmly, McQueen said, "Thank you, Glen. We'll see you, what? The morning of the execution?"

Blindly, Ross nodded.

"Take care, old friend." McQueen shook Ross gently. "Go to bed. We'll be fine."

"Still one or two things I have to do tonight. But I'll go soon enough." Ross stood up. "I'll stop by the transport before... if that's all right with you."

"Sounds good."

Silver stepped over toward the bedroom. "Briggs, I-"

"Will you be attending the execution, ma'am?" Briggs asked brusquely.

She glanced over at Ross who spoke quietly. "The clearing I've marked for you is also the execution site. You can stay in the transport and watch, leave or watch from outside."

Turning back to Briggs, Silver said, "I don't think so. Not in person."

"Then I will have your dress jackets and swords properly cleaned and returned to your quarters before your arrival back on the 'Toga. If you would leave the remainder of your dress uniform there as well, I will endeavor to have it properly cleaned as well." Briggs stood stiffly.

A soft smile touched Silver's lips. "Briggs, you're a dear. Thank you."

"No need to be insulting, ma'am."

But she saw the twinkle in his eyes. "Come on, Ty. Let's get out of here before we're smothered in kindness. Good night, Glen."

"Night, Lysa, Ty."

"Night, Glen." McQueen took a second to clasp his friend's hand tightly. "Later."

"Later."

Ross watched them leave, hoping he was doing the right thing in giving them some time away.

"Sir, I happen to know there is nothing else on your agenda. I don't think you really want to get drunk. May I suggest this?" Briggs held a small vial. "It's something I picked up at Sickbay. I thought you might need some help getting to sleep tonight."

Ross hesitated until Briggs added, "It's completely safe, sir. Non-addicting and few remember any dreams." He reached over, took the vial and drank its contents quickly, grimacing. "Can't say much for the taste."

"No, sir. It will take about thirty mikes to start working so if you would care to either shower or play Rosalyn, you have the time to do so." Briggs took the vial back and returned to work waiting in the bedroom. He smiled as he heard the guitar strings sound.

****

McQueen rolled his shoulders, relieved to be out of the confining dress uniform. He passionately hated the stiff collars and could never be out of it soon enough. Glancing back over his shoulder, he saw Silver do the same and grinned. Stopping before the Wildcards' barracks, he tucked an errant strand of her hair over her ear.

"I think they're in," Silver said dryly as the sounds of music and thuds reached their ears.

"What the hell are they doing?" McQueen wondered as another loud thud sounded. "It's only 2100 hours. They can't be drunk yet." He dropped his duffel bag right up against the wall.

"Shall we just walk in or give them warning?" Silver set her duffel on top of his.

McQueen grabbed the door handle and turned it. The door opened and he stepped inside the barracks quickly, shutting the door once Silver was in so that he could keep the sound confined. It took him a moment to sort out what he was seeing.

Leon and Hawkes appeared to be in a wrestling match and the thuds seemed to originate from one or the other of them slamming into the walls or bunks. The rest of the squad sat on their bunks watching. On careful observation, McQueen upgraded the wrestling to an out and out fight as he noticed Monty attempting to interfere. Glancing at Silver, he saw her tilt her head and smile slightly, leaving it to him to take charge.

"Atten-HUT!" he barked.

Bodies flew from the bunks and assumed attention. Monty gave one last attempt to stop the fight, sighed, and stepped over to his bunk to stand as ordered.

Scowling, McQueen strode over to where the two men still ignored his presence. He grabbed each by the back of the collar and lifted them to their feet. A fist headed his way and he snarled, "Do it, mister, and you're in the brig."

Both men went still, suddenly aware they were in deep trouble.

McQueen spun on his heel, dragging the two around with him. He pinned Vansen with his steely gaze. His words came out clipped, short. "What is this about?"

Under his 'McQueen' glare, Vansen shrank into herself slightly before stiffening up. "Sir, I don't know exactly. Leon was trying to get past Hawkes into the showers. He said something in French, sounded like an insult, but then I'm not conversant with French. Hawkes said something back, Leon said something else, and then they were fighting. I figured I'd let them fight it out. They've been sniping at one another since Leon and Monty joined us."

Giving the two men in his hands a shake, McQueen glared at them. "Is this so?"

Hawkes hesitated, then spat, "He said I was just like my nickname, a slow and stupid tank that didn't know how to get out of the way. I told him that his fighting skills weren't as good as his tongue. He said...." Hawkes turned his head away, suddenly aware of who he was talking to.

"What did he say, Lieutenant?" growled McQueen.

His eyes on the deck, Hawkes answered, "He said since I was a tank, I was only good for being fucked by my commanding officer."

His body still, McQueen shook Hawkes hard, saying in a cool voice, "Lieutenant, you should know by now not to rise to such baiting." He flung Hawkes toward the nearest bunk rack before turning his cold eyes on Leon. "As for you, Lieutenant, I do not tolerate such talk. I asked for your transfer to this squadron because I thought you would be a useful addition. Was I wrong in that assumption?"

"No, sir." Leon stood on his feet, his collar still held by McQueen.

"This squadron lives together, works together, fights together. Do you have a problem with that or shall I let the 29th Squadron on the Bunker Hill know you're available for transfer?"

It took Leon a second to come up with a suitable reply. "No, sir. I have no problem."

"Good. Because Hawkes is now your wingman." McQueen ignored Hawkes' quickly stifled protest. Hawkes had grown accustomed to being Vansen's wingman. "And on the ground, you're his back-up. In fact, I don't want the two of you more than ten feet away from one another for the next two weeks while you're shipboard. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, sir."

McQueen saw the dismay Leon masked swiftly and knew Hawkes echoed it. "We are at war, gentlemen. Bury your differences or I'll take care of the both of you." Leon's eyes flicker toward Hawkes and he knew the man saw Hawkes' fear. Hawkes might be able to take him, after a lot of work admittedly, in wrestling, but in hand-to-hand combat, he still beat the pants off Hawkes every time.

"Yes, sir." Leon straightened as McQueen released his collar.

Sweeping the room with his glare, McQueen said, "As for the rest of you, I'm disgusted at you. This should have been stopped before it got anywhere. I want a twenty klick ruck run, starting in fifteen mikes." Groans greeted the announcement as no one enjoyed running through the crowded, narrow corridors of the 'Toga in full combat gear and toting their rifles along. "You will repeat it at 1000 hours tomorrow and at the usual time tomorrow night."

Stalking over to Vansen, McQueen lowered his voice. "I'm disappointed, Captain. FYI, the colonel and I will be unavailable for the next thirty hours. You have your orders, Captain. The squad is yours."

Before Vansen could speak, McQueen opened the door and followed Silver into the corridor. The door shut once more, he paused. He could hear Monty starting to harangue the squad and bit back a smile. "I should've had a sergeant attached before now."

"They're not going to think that." Silver slid her hand into the crook of his elbow while hefting her duffel onto her other shoulder. "Come on. Let's blow this joint."

"Lead on, Mrs. McDuff." His duffel in his other hand, McQueen shook his head slightly at the antics of the 58th and took a deep breath before following her tug, letting all thoughts of the squad go. He had other things to think about now.

They found the ISSAPC exactly where Ross had said, waiting on Transport Bay 7's pad.

Silver steered McQueen toward the pilot's seat. "Go on. You fly the bird."

"But-"

"It's ok, Ty. I just don't feel like flying. I'll take co-pilot." She sat down, leaving him no choice. Pulling up the map of the planet, she smiled. "Look, he even marked it with an 'X' so we can't miss it."

"Guess we better be there when he arrives." McQueen started the pre-flight checks.

The flight down was uneventful. Silver navigated quietly beside him, content to watch him fly.

Shutting down the engines, McQueen unbuckled and stood up. "Let's see what we've got on board. I'm wondering just what Glen's managed to stash away for us."

"Well, he did mention something about food." Silver followed him into the main area, stopping to check the temperature setting.

"Here's a hamper." McQueen held his find up, standing by the bunk he had found it on. He started rummaging through it. "Looks like it's all stuff good cold. The makings for sandwiches and the like. Canned fruit, some fresh vegetables... Hey, some apples."

Silver smiled at the delight on his face. "Shall we have one now?" She caught the apple he tossed her.

Shining the apple on his flight suit, McQueen glanced around. "I don't really want to sleep on the bunks. How about if we drag a few mattresses onto the deck?"

"How about four?"

Biting into his apple, McQueen nodded.

Minutes later, they had stacked four mattresses on the deck, two deep. The top two were at right angles to the bottom ones and blankets as well as a sheet were draped over all four before Silver tossed some pillows down. Another sheet plus two blankets went over the lot which McQueen helped her tuck in under the mattresses for a proper military style bed. He didn't notice the towel she dropped down beside the mattresses.

Before he could reach into his pocket and pull out a coin to bounce on the bed, Silver caught his hand. She brought his hand to her waist, ran hers up his body to his jaw before kissing him.

He followed her tug downward and knelt on the mattresses as she sat before him. Regretfully he eyed his apple and started to set it aside. To his surprise, she took his apple and pulled him down onto the makeshift bed, rolling him onto his back. She bit off a piece of the apple and, moving her mouth over his, dropped it into his mouth. The occasional bite she ate herself, but most of the apple he ate.

McQueen watched her set the apple core aside and start unzipping his flight suit. "Lysa, you don't need to do this. It's enjoyable, yes. A turn on, yes. But you don't need to do this."

"It's not that I need to do this, Ty, it's that I want to." She straddled his hips, sliding her hands up under his turtle neck and tank top, letting her fingers explore his skin, caressing the burned areas of his chest lightly. Feather light kisses were rained on the slowly disappearing scars on his left side.

"Lysa, how about we just-" Coherent speech died in his throat as she slid a hand down between his legs and tugged lightly. The rush of blood to his groin left him completely pliable to her wishes.

Her mouth moved down to his smooth, hard abdomen while her hands caressed the inside of his thighs before going behind her to his lower legs. He could feel her fingers unlacing his boots as her tongue mouthed him through the khaki shorts, making him moan and press upward. Once his boots were off, her hands caressed upward before dragging his flight suit down his body. Wordlessly, he helped, doing his best not to dislodge her mouth. He dragged his turtle neck and tank top off over his head and let them drop to the deck, moaning as she rewarded him with a hard caress across the tip of his aching cock.

As she started shifting his shorts downward, McQueen managed to ask, despite her tongue now flicking over the revealed flesh, "Just... what do... do you... have in mind?"

"Taking care of you, love. Properly."

"Properly?" His shorts joined his boots and McQueen felt her hand sliding up his torso to wind behind his neck. Fire danced briefly along his nerves and he moaned, eager for more.

Kissing her way up his body, Silver decided that she would have him on his right side. The towel was picked up and dropped on the mattress to his right as she licked and kissed his abdomen, enjoying making him try to fend her off, half laughing and half gasping for breath as he did so.

He started unfastening her flight suit as she reached his chest, her tongue laving a nipple to hardness. "A bit overdressed, aren't you?" he whispered.

"Not for the moment, love."

Her teeth nipped lightly and he contented himself with caressing her through the fabric. More fire flared as she ran a fingertip over his navel. As she gave his throat long leisurely licks, McQueen marveled at the fact that he allowed her to touch his navel, let alone use it to send him into a form of sexual overload. From his earliest memories of being decanted, being shipped out to the mines, and the five horrid years working those mines, his neck navel had only been used against him. Bad enough that he had suffered indignities that most natural borns would be horrified to hear listed, but to know that all someone needed to do was suck hard on his navel and he would become instantly sexually useful had shaped his outlook significantly. The mining personnel, indeed the ship's crew that had delivered him to the mines, had used it extensively against him until the thought of anyone even getting near his navel was enough to make him defensive. And here, he was, letting her do whatever she wanted to him, up to and including his navel. Hell, even Amy, his first wife, hadn't touched it. But Silver, she did. How she did. She had taught him that his navel could provide a sexual experience unlike any he had ever known, stimulating the pleasure centers in his brain directly through his navel.

Shivers of desire coursed through McQueen as she slowly rolled him onto his side and settled behind him, shifting an arm underneath his head. Her leg draped over his and he marveled at the fact that she had somehow removed her boots without his noticing. A moan escaped as she breathed on his navel and he lost all interest in thought, wanting only what she promised.

Tendrils of flame darted through his body as she licked gently around his navel with occasional slow licks over the raised flesh. Each lick activated more fire until he danced trapped in her arms and legs, wanting only more of the burning fire. Her tongue ceased its delicious torture and he moaned softly, aware that he was breathing hard already.

His breathing steadied and a soft breath warned him that his break was over. Still she continued slowly, driving him mad with intense flames burning throughout his body. Shudders coursed through his body when she ceased her tongue's caresses again and he cried out breathlessly with longing.

"Don't torture me, Lysa. I can't stand it," he managed once he had recovered his breath.

"It won't be as intense."

"And the other times weren't?" He chuckled softly, remembering how weak and drained he'd been physically after the previous times she had done this.

"You trust me?"

"Of course." He sighed, reaching up to squeeze her arm that rested across his chest. "Your pace, love." As he let his hand drop back down, he still felt amazed at the fact that she could hold him safely even when he thrashed in the throes of such overwhelming pleasure.

"I'm ready to start again."

The words were feather soft in his ear. "Go on," he urged.

It took no time at all for the flames to consume him. Her tongue dipped in and out of his navel, driving the flames hotter with every dip. Gentle sucking made his entire body buck and he moaned continuously while she overwhelmed his body and brain with pleasure. He lost track of the times she stopped to give him a breather, his mind too consumed with the pleasure to pay any attention. A part of him knew that her arms and legs continued to hold him, yet he had no sensation of it. The raging wildfire his body had become absorbed all thought, all sensations, all needs, except for the single desire to be driven to ever higher heights.

Holding him, Silver tilted her head away from his writhing body, giving herself a momentary break. His chest heaved under her arms as he struggled to breath. She had never taken so long with this and she had fully expected him to climax before this. It made her wonder if by surrendering himself so completely, he was able to enjoy it at levels unknown to him before. Stretching her jaw briefly, she took a deep breath and prepared to continue, hopefully driving him over the edge.

The delicious inferno engulfed him and McQueen felt the nova within him growing. When it exploded at long last, he glimpsed stars and galaxies whirling in deep space and grasped the sense of the universe before darkness overcame his overloaded senses.

His body convulsed in her arms, finally driven beyond its limits, and she nuzzled his neck, breathing in his scent, content to hold him until his body stilled. Only light tremors coursed through him when she settled him down onto his back. It took only minutes to clean him up and she tossed the wadded-up towel toward the APC's head. With some maneuvering, she got him under the covers of the makeshift bed before stripping off her flight suit and clothes to join him. His breathing had settled into the rare deep, slow rhythm of sound sleep. She smiled, snuggling up against him and contenting herself with holding and lightly stroking him until she fell asleep.

****

Gentle sucking on her breast woke Silver. She reached down to run her hand through his short, silver-blond hair. "How do you feel?"

"Fine," McQueen said, raising his head long enough to grin at her. "I slept long enough to recoup my energy. Now, it's my turn."

He returned his attention to her breast, licking and sucking on it, while he used a hand on the other one, kneading it and finding just the right place to make her really hot. During one of their lovemaking sessions on Dicte, he had found that if he worked her breast the right way she became extremely aroused.

Slowly he moved down her body, using plenty of licks and kisses, letting the blankets slide off him. At her navel, he dipped his tongue in and out several times, imitating what she had done. Her legs parted as he slid his hands down to her knees, taking the time to caress lightly the inside of her thighs. Pressing his hand against her revealed that she was quite ready for him. He eased first one, then two fingers inside her, making sure to stroke her special spot. With his tongue, he proceeded to write the alphabet, enjoying the sounds of her pleasure while continuing to use his fingers.

When he reached the letter 'M', McQueen paused before continuing and slowed his fingers down. She moaned, pressing his head down briefly, wanting more, but let him resume at his own pace. Her climax shook her when he reached 'Y' and he smiled, taking the opportunity to rest his tongue, but he intended to drive her just as hard as she had him. He resumed at 'Z', followed that with 1 through 10 and started the alphabet all over again.

He wasn't satisfied until she had her fourth orgasm, shuddering and crying out incoherently, her fingers pressing into his scalp. After cleaning her up, he kissed his way back up her body, waiting patiently above her mouth for her to return. As her eyes started to focus on him, he kissed her gently.

Her arms circled him and he felt her strength matching his as they hugged one another. He stretched out beside her and drew a deep breath, letting it go after a few seconds. "So, what's next on the agenda?"

"How about some food? A sandwich would be good about now." She kissed him, running her fingers over his face. "By the way, I love you, Tyrus. More than life itself."

Taking hold of her hand, he turned his head so he could kiss her palm. "And I love you, Lysa. Only death shall part us."

She smiled sadly. "No talking of death, not now."

McQueen nodded once. "It was foolish of me to speak so." Rolling off the bed, he grabbed the hamper. "Sandwiches, I believe you said."

"Yes."

Fifteen minutes later, they finished off their sandwiches and settled back down on the bed, water packets in hand. McQueen had pulled more pillows off the bunks and piled them up so that they had something to lean against.

Silver closed her water packet and set it aside. "Ty, now that we are as alone as we're going to be for some time, I want to ask you something."

The somber tone of her words made McQueen sigh. "Go ahead."

She turned on her side and rested her hand on his chest. Her eyes met his frankly and she kept her voice quiet. "What upset you so about the trio and me?"

McQueen closed his eyes and turned his head away. "I'm not sure how to answer." He heard her sigh.

"I will not force you to answer, Ty." Her hand slid down to the mattress as she resumed lying on her back.

He took a deep breath, forced himself to hold it for a count of ten, and exhaled. Putting his feelings into words would be as difficult as any battle he had faced. His words came slowly at first, with many pauses as he struggled to find the right words. "I know why you need the trio. When I became your consort, I thought I knew and understood, and would be able to face it without difficulty. Most of the time, that is so. I'm not sure exactly what it was that made it different that time. Perhaps it had something to do with what you told me, that you had drunk my life-force down too far. That I had little resistance to dark thoughts." Shifting onto his side to face her, he added, "I wanted you to need me. To need me more than you needed them. Even so, I knew I was lying to myself. I'm ashamed of myself and I hurt only myself. No, that's not true. I hurt Hawkes."

McQueen set his empty water packet down. "I guess... No, I have to be honest. I know I was jealous. Stupid, isn't it? Me being jealous of other tanks." His mouth twisted with bitterness and self-deprecation.

In a smooth, swift motion, Silver rolled over on top of him. "Don't talk like that. Being jealous, well, that's understandable. What you just said, though, that isn't. Not now." As his arms gripped hers, she asked, "So, why were you jealous?"

He closed his eyes to shut out the sharpness of her gaze. It took him a moment to speak. "They were giving you what I wanted to and couldn't. I thought I was handling it. I guess I was until Hawkes wanted sex. I felt you enjoying yourself with them. I wanted to be the one making you feel good. Not them. Instead, I was with Hawkes and you were urging me to enjoy myself with him. So, I did. Afterward, I knew what I'd done. I'd used him, cruelly." He released his hold on her arms and shook his head slightly. "No, I didn't hurt him physically, but I didn't do it to make love to him. And that was cruel of me."

"Did you apologize to Hawkes?"

"Yes, for worrying him, but not for using him." McQueen sighed and opened his eyes, forcing himself to meet her gaze squarely. "I must apologize to you as well, Lysa. For being so jealous that I dragged you away from the trio before you had finished. I'm sorry." He reached up to cup her cheek, rubbing his thumb over her cheek bone. "I haven't felt that way since."

"You're forgiven, love. And it's only been three days." She smiled gently before saying, "I don't want you feeling jealous, Ty, but I don't have a choice in this. I have to feed the hunger, especially after such a trying period."

"I know." He slid his hand behind her neck and tugged her down onto his chest. With her head resting on his shoulder, he continued. "I don't want you to starve yourself. The jealousy, it's something I have to deal with when it happens again. And I fear it will happen again."

"It's called being human, Ty." She kissed his throat before snuggling down. "You know, you could stick around while the trio are there. After all, it didn't bother you when it was Glen."

As he stroked her hair, McQueen thought for a moment. He knew Glen, knew the man well, and hadn't really felt jealous during their strip and sex poker game. "It was different with Glen. I know Glen. He's been my friend ever since we met. I feel comfortable around him. I trust him, with my life and more."

"And you don't trust the trio."

"No, I mean, yes, I do, just not the same way." He scowled in frustration. "I trust them to guard my back, to be there during missions. Same as I do my kids. I love those kids, just like I do Glen. Hell, without them, I wouldn't have been able to even think of you as more than a fling and I sure as hell wouldn't be married to you. It's not the same with Finch, Russell, and St. John. I like them, I respect them, but I don't love them. Seeing them with you, that's just too much for me."

"What about if Hawkes or Wang join my circle? How do you feel about that?"

Her fingers lightly rubbed his chest. "I don't know that I could watch them with you. And I don't know if I could make love to any of them."

"Except for Hawkes," she said dryly.

"I don't even know if I can do that now. I treated him badly and I'll have to deal with that." He sighed. "Damn, but life is complicated."

"Keeps us on our toes."

Quiet descended as they both just relaxed and let their thoughts wander. Sleep overtook them after awhile.

****

Hawkes sat in the Tunn, staring into his mostly full beer mug, the head having long dissolved into the golden liquid.

"So, are you trying to drink using your eyes, lad?"

Hawkes grimaced before looking up at Monty. The sergeant sat down, his own beer with a healthy foam on it, and took a deep drink. Picking up his own mug, Hawkes forced himself to drink some of his now barely cool beer. Wasting a drink was frowned on.

"So, what's the long face for? Surely not for that exercise we finished a while ago?" Monty leaned back in his chair, stretching his legs out under the table. "That was a good stretch of the legs."

"That's not it." Hawkes sighed, seeing the rest of the squad headed for him having refilled their drinks.

In a low voice, Monty said, "Look, son, if you want to talk, I'll be in the Observation Port for the next hour." The sergeant rose, finished off his drink, and looked at the squad as they good-naturedly pushed and shoved one another to get to their seats. "Don't stay out too late, folks. We'll need time in the morning to prepare for our next ruck run."

"Don't remind me," groused West from beside Hawkes. "My feet hurt."

Monty shook his head. "You are out of shape then. A twenty klick ruck run should be child's play for you." He dropped his hand on Wang's shoulder. "How'd you do, Paul?"

"I walked four circuits. Without using my cane." A brilliant smile brightened Wang's face and he lifted his mug up. "Hoo-Rah for me."

As the others tapped mugs with Wang, Monty said softly, "Good job, lad." A final pat on Wang's shoulder and the sergeant walked away.

Hawkes watched as Monty left his mug at the bar and left the tavern. He listened to the others complain about the run, but didn't chime in. When none of the others appeared to notice his lack of complaints or just plain speaking, he downed the warming beer and pushed his chair back.

"Hey, Coop, if you're going for a refill, would you-" West's voice trailed off as Hawkes walked away, pausing at the bar only long enough to drop off the empty mug. "Geez, what's with Coop?"

"Don't know, but he's been rather quiet since he came back from keeping an eye on the colonels." Vansen frowned and thought about going after Hawkes.

"Shane, you have any new pictures of your niece?"

Drawn back into the group, Vansen grinned and reached into her pocket. "Have I ever."

In the corridor, Hawkes stepped to the side of the doorway, hesitating, wondering what to do. He sighed and headed for the elevators. He stepped out on Deck 6, telling himself that he wasn't there to talk to Monty.

The Observation Port took his breath away. He had been in it many times and seen the stars in their wondrous, cold glory. This time the ship's navigator had positioned the ship so that the planet lay framed in the window. Even the muddy color of the planet did not detract from the magnificence of the view. Two small moons reflected the light from the system's dark yellow sun and he slowly moved to the window, resting his hand on the thick layers of glass.

"Gets to you, doesn't it?" Monty spoke softly from the corner of the room where he had been standing in the shadows. He walked over to beside Hawkes. "It helps to remember from time to time that the universe is a truly awesome place and doesn't give a damn about us."

"The universe may not, but there are those who do." Hawkes couldn't tear his gaze away.

Monty lowered his voice, though they were the only two in the room. "Those vampiric gods. Right."

"Not gods, more like angels, I guess." Hawkes shrugged. "I've talked to some of the vampires and remals about them. I've also read up on some of Earth's religions. Jalke and Hakur are not portrayed as gods, creators of things, except for the Covenant. Instead they work for the higher power, the one that created it all. The Master Engineer as they call it."

"That's as good as any name." Monty stared at Hawkes' reflection. "So, Hawkes. You didn't come up here to look at the stars."

Hawkes took a deep breath and let it out quickly. "You're right. I need to talk but..." He turned to face Monty. "Swear you won't tell anyone, not even the colonels."

"That sounds pretty serious."

"I need you to swear you'll not talk about this, not to anyone. Not even those religious guys, the priests or whatever." Hawkes straightened, his face set.

Monty took a moment to study Hawkes as if looking to see how serious Hawkes was. He nodded.

Hawkes looked around, making sure no one was around. "Ok." He turned back to the window, rubbing his arms. "Bear with me, ok? This isn't easy for me. I've never done anything like this before."

"Whenever you're ready, lad."

"Do you know anything about us tanks?"

"Tanks, no. Invitroes, yes. I've known a few."

Hawkes waved his hand impatiently. "No difference."

Monty's face tightened. "Boy, there is a difference. To me, tank is a dirty word used to degrade good men and women, to make them think they're worthless, no good, useless to society. Invitro merely means a man was born differently, but is still a man, able to make his own decisions about his life and tell right from wrong, no matter his upbringing."

Taken aback by the vehemence in Monty's voice, Hawkes stared at the man for several seconds before nodding slowly. "The colonel keeps telling me to remember the difference, too, but until I met him, I'd never been treated as anything other than a tank. For nearly seven years, no one cared to make a difference in how they treated me until him." Hawkes shrugged. "Maybe if I hadn't had to leave before the classes finished, maybe I would be able to deal with it easier."

"Leave before the classes finished? Why didn't you stay? After all, you're supposed to learn how to live in society."

A shiver ran through Hawkes. "My group wasn't really learning that. We were learning how to kill humans. I... we were designed for special military operations. I can speak French, German, and Russian, but I have no memory of learning them. There's a lot of other things I can do that I use when I need to."

"What happened?"

"I started asking questions. They decided to terminate me."

"Questions about?"

"Who monitors the monitors."

Monty whistled softly. "That would do it."

"I was warned by one of the other ... Invitroes and when the monitor came to take me away, I was already edgy. He tried to kill me, but I killed him. He had counted on my just being an obedient tank and letting him shoot me with poison."

"Foolish assumption on his part." Monty settled back in his chair.

"Any way, the monitors, they used us as they saw fit, but they were not as cruel as what I've found about the way the colonel was treated in the mines." Hawkes glanced at Monty and knew by the questioning look that the sergeant was wondering just what this had to do with what he had come up here to talk about. "You have to understand about us before I tell you what's bothering me. Otherwise it won't quite make sense."

Monty nodded.

Leaning against the glass, Hawkes said, "The colonel, he's the closest thing to a father I've ever had, but he's more than that. I'm just not sure what exactly. I was taught that the only way to show any affection was sexually." He stared at the floor and then looked at Monty without raising his head.

"That could be a problem. So, have you been showing your affection for the colonel?"

Hawkes bit his lip. "Once in a while."

"How many times?"

"Three all told."

"How long ago did it start?"

The words tumbled out of Hawkes' mouth. "Just over a year. Just before we left on the mission to extract Silver from deep in Chig space. The next time was shortly before their marriage and the last was the day before the trial began."

"Obviously, he cares for you in return. Plus, it seems to me you've been controlling it. So what's wrong?"

"You know what Silver is, don't you?"

"Yes, a vampire. I don't understand it all, but I can live with it." Monty leaned forward, sensing they were coming to the meat of the problem.

"I've been thinking about becoming one of Silver's remal since before they got married. I know Paul and West are thinking about it as well. The colonel when we first told him we were considering it, he, well, he said it would be ok."

"I hear a but in there, Cooper."

Hawkes nodded quickly and looked up at Monty. The anguish in Hawkes' eyes tore at Monty and he firmly restrained the urge to hug the young man.

"Since losing the baby.... I know losing the baby is hard on him, I know it. But the way he was when we were together.... I'm worried that if I go through with it, if I become her remal, he's going to hate me. Not a little hate that can be hidden, but a big one. The kind that can't be hidden away and hurts, hurts everyone, including him."

"That is serious, Cooper. Did you talk to him about it?"

"He stopped by to apologize to me for worrying me when we talked afterward, but before I could tell him I really needed to talk with him, he had to leave. With the trial and all...." Hawkes shrugged.

"When he gets back here, you talk to him." When Hawkes nodded, he asked, "Who's been the instigator these three times?" He knew the answer as Hawkes' cheeks reddened. "You? He let you?"

"Yes. The first time I took him by surprise." Hawkes grinned at Monty's disbelieving look. "He really wasn't expecting it and he really needed to get laid. I just sort of overpowered him and got him to realize he needed it. The second time, well, I needed it and he went along with it."

"And this last time?" Monty asked as Hawkes hesitated.

"It wasn't planned. I just wanted to talk to him about what had happened with the baby and all. I was crying and he held me, rubbed my back. I kissed him. I wanted him. At first he didn't want to. He was really reluctant, but then it was like he made a decision and he was ready for it. Afterward, he... he said..."

"What did he say?"

"That he was feeling hurt that Silver didn't need him at the moment, that she needed the trio instead of him. I tried to tell him that she loves him, that she's just using the trio for what she has to, but I could see he wasn't really listening. I asked him if he would hate me if I asked to become a remal."

When Hawkes didn't continue, Monty prompted with, "And? What did he say?"

"An instant no, followed by he wasn't sure. I left."

Monty shook his head. "What a kettle of fish." He looked up at Hawkes. "Ok, do you feel better having gotten that off your chest?"

Hawkes nodded. "It helps. I still don't know why he's acting the way he is or why he said some of the things he said."

"That will have to wait until you can talk to him. You want my advice, Hawkes?"

Hawkes nodded.

"Go to bed. Get some serious sleep. Then when you can, talk to him. Straighten it out between you." Monty rose.

Hesitating, Hawkes glanced at the door, then at Monty. "Sarge, thank you." He bolted for the door.

"You're welcome, kid." Alone, Monty leaned his forehead against the glass and sighed. All he could do was hope that the situation would be straightened out when the two men talked. He let his gaze travel to the planet and couldn't help wondering if McQueen was doing some soul searching himself.

****

Even this mud ball of a planet can be beautiful, thought McQueen as he shoved open the APC's side door, making sure it locked into place. He settled down with his back against the door jam, letting one leg dangle over the edge.

The sky overhead, with its high clouds, had too much purple for his taste. It clashed with the darker green of the trees and grasses. At the moment, the early morning sun shown from behind the transport and he smiled, closing his eyes in order to listen better. Trills and whistles sounded, drowning out the leaves rustling in the light breeze.

"Comfortable?" growled a gravelly voice from beside him.

Opening his eyes, he grinned on seeing Silver in her four footed form. She reminded him of the extinct saber toothed cats of Earth's past. Being not as long in the body as modern felines, she had a powerful build, capable of bursts of speed, yet retained all the grace and suppleness of the felines. Her muzzle was longer, narrower and sported four inch fangs resembling curved knife blades than teeth. Brown fur so dark it looked black coated her body to a depth of two inches in places, making her eyes startling blue staring back at him from under her over large cupped ears that swiveled and twitched to the sounds around them. Even as he watched, he saw her muzzle shorten and thicken, enabling her to speak better.

As she sat and started grooming herself with her short stubby hands, the claws retracted, making the cat resemblance even stronger, he asked, "So how's the hunting?"

"Would you like some fire-cooked meat this morning?" She paused in her grooming to drag a leaf-wrapped bundle forward. "Tastes a lot like rabbit."

He slid out of the doorway and crouched down to open the packet. The cleaned and skinned body of a creature lay in the leaves, minus its head, feet and tail. "How many did you eat?"

"Two."

Shaking his head, he picked the bundle up, re-wrapping it in the leaves and looking the area over for a good fire site. "So, you've already eaten, what, fifteen, twenty pounds of meat?"

"Something like. That was the largest one." She resumed her grooming.

Satisfied with the spot he chose, McQueen set the bundle down and started gathering stones. "Well, when you're done there, would you gather up some wood? If you're joining me, that is."

"Of course. By the time it finishes, I'll be hungry again."

Soon McQueen sat back, pleased with his efforts. The fire was going well and would be ready in a while for the meat to be spitted over it.

"Good job, Marine."

The feel of her hot breath on the back of his neck sent a shiver down his spine and the sudden cool wetness of her nose against his flesh made him jump slightly. He was almost prepared for the rough touch of her tongue across his navel, so he stiffened slightly and moaned at the novel sensation. It took him a moment to say, "Glad you approve, Marine." After she licked his navel again, he asked, "What are you up to, Sa?"

"Thought it would be self-evident, love."

Her shortened hands pulled him over backwards by the shoulders and he found that she had laid out several blankets behind him. Shifting him onto the blankets completely, she straddled him with all four legs and licked his bared throat. He felt unsure about just how far she was going to go in animal form, but decided to trust her to know not to overstep his comfort zone.

She unzipped the flight suit and started tugging it down over his shoulders. He wriggled his upper body and arms out of it and pushed it toward his hips. The flight suit was down around his hips when she nosed his tank top out of the way and started licking his nipple. Shivers of desire sped through him and he quickly yanked the tank top off before burying his hands in the thick fur on her chest and shoulders. The unusual sensations created by the combination of her cool, wet nose running over his skin followed by her warm, rough tongue sent waves of heat through him and he allowed himself to wallow in the flaming heat of desire so arousing him as she paid attention to both sides several times. He almost cried out when she moved her head down toward his abdomen, shifting her body back out of the way. His hands slid up to her oddly shaped skull as the rough wetness turned his belly to jello.

So consumed by the sensations, he almost missed the feeling of her tugging the flight suit down his legs. Kicking the flight suit off, he was glad he hadn't put on socks or boots this morning. His shorts followed and he waited, wondering what lay in store.

She parted his legs and licked the inside of his thigh from knee to groin, avoiding the area he wanted her to touch. Switching from leg to leg, her nose and tongue drove him crazy until he reached down, intent on shifting her focus.

Abruptly, she withdrew, sitting down and gazing at him, head cocked to the side.. He groaned, but tucked his hands under his head, understanding the unspoken message. His reward made him groan as she licked from one knee to the other, across the base of his quite hard cock. Back up to his groin she traveled, pausing to lick his balls thoroughly before going down the other leg. Three times she did it before granting his desire.

All rational thought escaped him as his hips bucked under the stroke of her rough, but wet and warm tongue up the underside of his cock. His eyes closed as she repeated the motion and then licked around the sensitive head.

"Yes, yes," he moaned as she started the fourth such lick from base to crown, his hips held down by her hands.

Her tongue swirled around the crown and even as he felt the roughness vanish, he flung his head back, overcome as she sucked his length into her now human mouth. Before he could recover, she licked her way back up to his throat and then kissed him. He buried his fingers in her hair and kissed her back hungrily before rolling her onto her back and burying himself into her wet center with barely held back need.

She laughed, grabbed his head to pull him down for another kiss and whispered, "Go for it, love. As hard and fast as you want."

"Not yet," he said, reining in his desire.

He set as slow a pace as he could stand, driving deep with every stroke. His speed picked up within a few minutes and he soon drove himself hard and furiously, enjoying the feel of her around him, the way her legs wrapped across his hips, and her wild response to his strokes. The way she watched him with desire in her green eyes drove him harder.

His body went taut, muscles in his back twitching as he climaxed, feeling her pleasure engulfing him. He slumped down onto his elbows, planting light kisses on her shoulder and throat. Snuggling down against her side, he asked, "Hunting's good?"

"Decent. I'm feeling somewhat recharged."

"Only somewhat? Sounds like you need to go hunting some more." He ran a finger along her cheek, content.

"Soon. I need to finish absorbing what I've had already. After all, I've already eaten two of those critters."

"Speaking of which..." McQueen glanced up at the spitted meat. With a soft groan, he levered himself onto his knees and rotated the meat, grimacing slightly. "You should never waylay the cook, you know. Not if you intend to eat decent food."

"Hard to resist when the cook is so damn delicious." She ran her hand up the inside of his thigh, grinning as his skin twitched under the light touch. "Easy to get carried away and not care about the food."

"Well, you were the one to suggest a hot meal." He adjusted the spit's angle.

"Thought you would appreciate a hot breakfast."

He slapped at her hand when she started tickling his thigh. "Trying to burn the cook, are you?" Satisfied with the meat's current position, he deliberately fell across her, taking care not to cause injury. "Gotcha." He grinned and started his own tickling.

"That's what you think." Laughing, she retaliated.

A few moments later, McQueen fought to fend her off and struggled to get enough breath to speak. Inhaling, he frowned and stopped fighting her, rolling onto his stomach. "Uh oh!" he managed.

Quickly they rescued the meat, laughing as they licked their nearly burned fingers.

McQueen took a careful bite. "Hey, this is pretty good."

"Thought you'd like it."

After they finished eating, he banked the fire, figuring that she would bring back more meat to eat. He started putting on his shorts. "Going to run around in the buff all day, woman?"

"Yep." Rolling onto her stomach, her body blurred and darkened. She stretched, her tail end up in the air and her front end still on the blanket. Getting onto all fours, she glanced up into the sky as a rumble in the air reached them. "Hammerhead, supersonic."

"That was my thought." Sliding into his tank top, McQueen raked his fingers through his hair. "So, what's on the agenda today?"

"What do you want to do?" She sat down, head cocked to the side, watching as he sat down.

He paused, socks in hand. After opening his mouth, he hesitated and shook his head. "You'll think it's a silly idea."

"Try me."

Feeling her curiosity, McQueen sighed, thinking that the bond was definitely good for one thing. He knew whether she was truly interested or not in whatever he had to say. Of course, he had yet to have her not be interested. Resolutely scrunching up a sock, he said, "Remember the cabin and how we went for walks? Real walks, not stalks through the country side wondering if there's an enemy behind the next bush or a mine in the ground. I want to take a walk and not have to worry about any of that."

"Get dressed then and shut the door."

"There's something else, Lysa."

"What?"

"I thought..." He stared at his hands, biting his lip. "I thought maybe we could scatter her ashes over some lake or pond."

"You brought them."

"Yes." He glanced up at her, feeling her turmoil. No anger shone in her eyes and he said, "I thought perhaps this would be a good place for her. What do you think?"

Her eyes closed and her ears twitched back, but still he felt no anger, just sadness. A moment later, it shone from her eyes as she said, "Yes, it is a good thought. We will find the right place for our daughter."

Smiling he reached over to stroke her furred cheek. "Together."

A moment later, the two walked into the woods side by side, his fingers buried in her shoulder ruff.

****

The twenty klick ruck run behind them, the 58th assembled in the gym to finish cooling down before heading for lunch. Monty gave the others an appraising look and snapped, "Stop standing there, Leon. You enjoy cramping up, man?"

Grimacing, Leon started his own stretches.

Monty walked over to stand beside Vansen. "Captain, we need to talk," he said as he reached for his toes, mimicking her moves.

"What about?" She returned to a standing position.

"Leon."

"Yes. He's not settling in." Down toward her toes she went.

"Not just about that. Who in the squad doesn't know Colonel Silver is a vampire? Besides Leon that is."

"They all know." Standing up abruptly, Vansen stared at Monty. "Shit. No wonder he's not fitting in. He thinks we're keeping secrets from him. And we are." She resumed stretching, thinking.

A moment later, she asked, "Will he believe us? Better yet, will he tell anyone?"

"I don't know about the believing part, but he doesn't talk. He may come to believe, in time."

"How do you know?" Vansen shot the sergeant a sharp look.

"I'm damn good at my job, Captain, and at the time my job was taking care of Colonel Terrilli. He needed to exchange blood with Colonel Silver."

"Terrilli was a Remal?" Vansen froze briefly before forcing herself to continue her stretches.

"You folks spend far too much time amongst yourselves. You need to mingle more with other squads. Hell, I figured out something was going on." Monty shook his head and started determined stretches.

Once the squad had finished stretching out, Vansen said, "Listen up, folks. After we're done with the showers, I want everyone to assemble in our briefing room at 1300 hours."

Hawkes gave her an eager look. "A mission?"

"No. It's something I should have taken care of before now." Vansen ran her gaze over the squad. "We have two new members and they deserve to know the truth about this squad, the entire truth. And they need to know what it's going to mean to them personally."

West nodded. "I've been thinking that myself. I was going to talk to you about it after lunch. Guess now I don't need to."

"All right, everyone, hit the showers. I'll see you at 1300 hours in the briefing room." Vansen nodded once and headed for the locker room.

****

Well, thought Vansen, this could have gone better. She and West had discussed the matter over lunch and had decided that they would just tell the facts as they were. Now Leon stood at the rear of the room staring at them all like they had lost their minds. She was glad she had asked Russell and Hawkes to stand by the door. She gave West, standing at her side, a worried look

"You're all crazy!" Leon's eyes darted from one member of the squad to the next. He focused on Monty. "Tell me you're pulling my leg, Sarge," he asked almost pleadingly.

"Sorry, Leon, but it's the truth. Colonel Silver is a vampire. I saw her with Colonel Terrilli myself. A straight exchange of blood. She drank from him and then he drank from her wrist. I watched them do the exchange several times in fact." Monty sat in a wheeled chair near the desk.

"You're all crazy and you've infected him with it!" Leon stiffened as he saw Hawkes take a step away from the door.

"Hey, man. Relax. It's a bit of a shock, I know. Imagine how we felt finding out. Hell, we were on a mission to rescue Silver when we found out. But you know what, Leon?" Hawkes grinned. "It's kinda cool having her around. I mean, she can help you heal faster, be stronger, make you a better soldier all around. What's the down side to that?"

"Giving your soul up, that's what."

"From what I've learned, talking to some of the vampires," piped up Wang, "we've all been around the block a few times already. You have to choose to be evil, Leon, and Silver, she's definitely not evil. Someone evil would have forced us all to submit to her and she hasn't done that. Even though she needs us."

"As a pig needs its feeding trough," sneered Leon.

Vansen shook her head. "No, Leon. I'll be the first to admit, I'm not comfortable with the knowledge that she's a vampire, but she hasn't pushed to change my mind. She needs us, desperately, but she won't take any of us who aren't willing." Turning to face Russell, she said, "Russell, how..." She frowned struck by a thought. "You know, we've known you three for a year now and I still have no idea what your first names are."

Frowning, Russell said, "That's because we hate our first names."

"How bad can they be?" asked Wang.

"Try Jack, Jack Russell," spat Russell. "I'm not a damned dog."

"No, you're not." Hawkes smiled and patted Russell on the shoulder.

With a sigh, Finch said, "Lark. Can you believe it? Two bird names?"

'Phousse shook her head and squeezed Finch's arm. "Poor Finch. What a thing to do."

"What about you, St. John?" asked West.

For a moment, St. John stood there, his mouth in a grim line. Then he said, "John."

"Oh, God, they were really scraping the barrel when they named you three." Vansen shook her head. "Sorry about that, guys. We'll just keep on calling you the way we have been."

"Good." Russell straightened his shoulders. "What were you going to ask me?"

"How long have you been remal?"

Russell leaned against the door, thinking. "Nine, ten years. Sort of lost track of the years."

"We joined her because of the kind of leader she is." St. John spoke. "She never treated us like dirt, always tried to help us better ourselves. We knew she would never let us down, so we've always been there for her. If she needs us to be remal, then we're remal. If she needs us to lay down our lives, well, we'll do that too. See, we know her. We know she would never take a sentient life form who wasn't willing."

"Have you ever said no to her?" Leon leaned forward slightly.

"Of course." Russell smiled wryly. "Sometimes, even for us, we're just not in the mood to be drunk from or have sex. She waits. I've heard of others who aren't so accommodating."

"Sex?" Leon stiffened.

"Yeah, vampires, well, they like sex with their blood." Russell grinned, shrugging. "It makes it more complete for them. And it makes it a helluva lot more fun for us."

"What kind of monsters are you?" Leon glared at everyone in the room.

"None of us are monsters, Leon." Slowly, Finch rose and faced him. "Look, we're not expecting you to embrace the idea whole-heartedly. It's been a strain keeping this a secret from you and frankly I'm glad I don't have to suddenly change what I'm saying because you walked into the room. You won't have to deal with her vampiric side often. Probably the only time you'll ever see evidence of it is on ground missions. She likes to go hunting."

West pinned Leon with his brown eyes. "Leon, we're telling you this because four members of this squad, Russell, Finch, St. John and Colonel McQueen, all are providing for Colonel Silver. Some of the rest of us are considering the same."

"In it for the sex, West?" snapped Leon.

A slow grin answered Leon. "Well, there IS that aspect. Frankly, I'm more interested in the side benefits. I like healing faster when I get hurt. If I trade blood with her, I'll gain other things as well, including faster reflexes. Ever wonder why they," he nodded toward the trio, "and Colonel McQueen, who was already one of the best flyers in the Fleet, are so damn near unbeatable, even after hours in the 'pit? It's not just because they're Invitroes. Hawkes is one and he gets exhausted before they do. It's because they've got increased stamina and faster reaction times from regular exchanges of blood. That's what I want. With or without the sex."

"What do you want from me? What are you going to do with me?"

'Phousse turned around in her seat. "We're not going to do anything to you, Leon, except stop trying to hide what's going on. All we need you to do is not tell anyone."

"Why?"

"For one thing, they'll think you're nuts." Wang grinned. "I mean, think about it. Can't you just see the reaction if you walked up to someone and said, 'Colonel Silver is a vampire'? Of course, that's assuming that you're not talking to a vampire or remal when you say it. Or a member of the vampire's enemies." Wang's grin faded. "Now, there's a lot that make the Chigs look downright fun."

Vansen looked from Wang to the trio. Seeing the grim looks on their faces, she said, "Um, no one's mentioned an enemy."

"That's because they would prefer not to advertise it." Wang shook his head. "Frankly, I don't blame the vampires. After all, would you want to talk about a race that you tried to nurture and help grow and had that race turn on not only you but another sentient race? These folks have committed planetary genocide. I'm not talking tossing a few nukes on a planet or scouring the planet with asteroids. No, these folks turned planets inside out, leaving behind plasma balls that used to be living, breathing worlds. They destabilized entire solar systems just to insure that they killed off the handful of vampires that might have been on the planet."

West shivered. "And here we thought the Chigs were nasty for wanting to force us back into our solar system and keep us penned there. Why the hell hasn't she told us?" He shook his head sharply. "Stupid question. Why bother telling anyone before we can do anything about it? We have to be able to defend our world against this race. I take it these folks won't care that most of humanity doesn't know about vampires."

"Right." Wang looked up at Leon. "See, Leon, vampires, real vampires, not the legend, have been living on Earth for nearly fifteen hundred years. For the most part, no one knows about them. The legends that you've heard about, well, they come from the few bad apples in the barrel and they are as nasty as you would suppose. I don't know much more about them than that."

"Great, you've told me this to make me sound insane." Leaning against the glass, Leon refused to look away from Vansen. "What do you want from me?"

Monty was the one who answered. "Just your word, Leon, that you won't let anyone know about Silver. We aren't going to force you to do anything you don't want to, except to be a soldier. Silver's a damned fine soldier, you should know that, you've worked with her before. But knowing what you now know, some things that puzzled you before should be explained. They are for me."

"How can you go along with this?"

"Was Terrilli a monster?" countered Monty.

"No."

"No more so is Silver. All you have to do is keep your mouth shut and I know you can do that." Monty rose. "I've said all I can say to him. I need a drink."

"I think we all do." Vansen motioned for Hawkes and Russell to move away from the door. "If you join us in barracks, Leon, we'll try to answer any questions you have."

"So long as it isn't prejudice that we're hearing," qualified Finch.

Leon waited until everyone had left before he warily followed.

****

Everyone turned to face the barrack's door when a knock sounded. Hawkes got up to open the door, leaving Leon sitting at the table with West and Vansen. At least, Leon was listening to them, he thought as he opened the door.

An older lieutenant, wearing a JAG symbol on his collar, stood in the corridor. "I'm looking for... oh, you're Hawkes. Just the person I was sent to find. I need to talk to you."

Hawkes hesitated, then turned to Vansen. "I'll be back in a bit, Shane."

"Ok."

"Might be a bit longer than a bit, Captain," the lieutenant said, looking past Hawkes to Vansen. "Just so you know."

"Thank you, lieutenant." Vansen nodded and turned back to the rest of the squad.

Shutting the door behind him, Hawkes asked, "Well?"

"Let's go somewhere a bit more private." As he led the way, the lieutenant said, "My name is Tobias Meyers. Colonel Watson asked me to talk to you."

"What about?"

Meyers gave Hawkes a questioning look. "You did volunteer for this duty, didn't you?"

"Volunteer?" For a second, Hawkes looked blank until he realized what Meyers was referring to. "Yes, I did."

"Then come along."


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter Sixteen - 2Souls BoundPage 17

Disclaimer: The name of all 'Space: Above and Beyond' characters contained herein are the property of Glen Morgan and James Wong, Hard Eight Productions and the Fox Broadcasting Network. These names have been used without their permission. All else is my own creation.

Rating: NC17 Language, violence and graphic sex.

Spoilers: None

Warning: Sex, Language.

Author: Vasalysa, with many undying thanks to Geek and Kaballa.

E-Mail: 

2 Souls Bound

Chapter Sixteen

Glancing out the view port, McQueen figured that the sun had been up for roughly an hour. The sound of a transport's engines overhead made him grimace as he watched it settle down on the other side of the clearing. His grimace changed to a partial smile as he saw the transport's door open a moment later and someone get out. "Hurry up, Lysa. Glen's on his way over."

"I am ready, love." Silver left the head and stretched. "So that was Glen buzzing us?" A glance outside and she sighed, seeing Ross, in his dress whites, was not quite a third of the way across the hundred and fifty foot clearing. "He doesn't look happy."

"I don't blame him. Not if..." McQueen found he couldn't finish the statement and just nodded toward the other craft.

"I know." Leaning her head against his shoulder, she wrapped her arm around his waist. "It's not an easy thing to do. So are you going to wait for him to knock?"

McQueen shook his head. "I think I'll ease the tension a bit." He patted her hand. "He's going to be feeling bad enough as it is."

He was standing in the open doorway with Silver by his side when Ross reached their transport. "Come on in, Glen."

"Thanks." Ross climbed into their ship and glanced around the spotless interior. "Hard to tell you've been living here." Only the food baskets appeared out of place and even they were neatly stacked under the LIDAR/radio console.

"Will you sit down, Glen?" McQueen asked, motioned toward the chair at the LIDAR station.

"I'd rather not. At least not yet. You know what's going on?" He gave both colonels a sharp look.

"Yes," they answered in unison.

Ross started pacing back and forth from side to side, hands clasped behind his back. "This isn't easy for me, Ty, Lysa. It's not like with Danson and the other assholes who damned near killed you, Ty. It's a lot easier to put bastards like them into the front lines of a major ground offensive, knowing they won't survive, than to stand and watch someone being executed."

Quietly, McQueen said, "Glen, you didn't make the choice of execution. Watson gave the judges several punishment choices and only one of them was this. The judges made the decision, not you. I do think it right that you should preside over it, though, Glen. After all, you are the commanding officer of the 'Toga."

"I hope I can live with myself after this." Ross stopped pacing, took a deep breath, and straightened his shoulders before turning to face the two. "I picked this location because I wanted to make it possible for you to watch the execution if you so desired, without being watched yourselves."

"Thank you, Glen." McQueen grasped his friend's shoulder.

"I think you'll need to talk to Hawkes afterward." Ross shook his head slightly. "Both he and Rollins got tagged from the 'Toga."

"It's got to be ripping Rollins apart, knowing that one of his crew did this." Silver sat on a bunk. "Poor man."

"He's also a very pissed one." Ross started pacing again.

"Glen, stop." McQueen watched as his friend stopped abruptly, stared at his feet and groaned. "It will be all right, Glen. Stop fretting. You're just wearing yourself out."

An alarm started beeping and Ross frowned, raising his wrist and turning off the alarm. "I have to go. Look, do you want me to send Hawkes over here afterward?"

McQueen hesitated. He felt a mental nudge from Silver and nodded.

"Glen, I'll ride back up with you and the rest." Silver lightly touched Ross' arm. "I think this discussion needs to be private and, even if I stay in the back, it won't get done."

"I'm afraid you're right." McQueen pulled her to him and wrapped his arms around her, breathing in the strawberry scent he now associated with her. "I'll see you back on the 'Toga, Glen."

"You're off duty for another six hours, FYI. Duties resume at fourteen hundred." Ross turned to the open doorway, paused, and turned to face them. He gave them a worried look, opened his mouth to speak, then turned resolutely away and started walking.

"He's worried about something, love." Silver stroked the arms holding her.

"I know, but I'm not sure what about. We'll find out later."

McQueen pulled her back from the doorway, let go with one hand long enough to slam the door shut and then returned to his possessive hold. Together they walked up into the cockpit. Standing, they could see the other transport clearly.

****

Sitting on the bench, Hawkes tugged impatiently at his collar, hating again the natural born who had designed the dress uniform. Along with the other four men and two women tagged for this duty, he kept his gaze firmly away from the rear of the ISSAPC, not wanting to see Her before it was time. Before he became... The white knuckled hand on the leg beside him caught his attention and he looked up to see the strained and rigid form of Master Sergeant Rollins.

"Sir," he whispered, "are you all right?"

Rollins glanced at him and he saw the suppressed rage in the brown eyes. He couldn't help flinching away, having seen far too many people look at him with the same rage.

"It's not you, Lieutenant. It's Her." The rage oozed out, making the voice flinty and brittle.

"Why are you..." Hawkes fished around for an adequate word and settled for "mad at her? She didn't hurt you."

"Didn't she?" Rollins spat the words. "She talked about him, all the time. If I'd been paying real attention to her, I might have been able to head this off. I warned her that he was married, and happily. She just changed the way she talked about him. I am responsible for..." Rollins' voice caught, and Hawkes heard the pain buried deep in the rage. "Responsible for what she did. A child died because I didn't pay attention."

Daringly, Hawkes rested his hand on Rollins' arm, making sure that his M-590 rifle stayed securely between his knees. "You are not responsible. She is. She took the action, not you. You did everything you could think of to discourage her interest in him, didn't you?"

"Yes."

"And she did it anyway. You had nothing to do with it. She is responsible for her own actions. She knew it was wrong, and she still did it." Hawkes saw the rage settle a little and said, "I volunteered for this, hating her. But it won't be in a rage that I will kill her." His voice lowered and flattened.

Rollins looked at the young man seated beside him and, despite his rage, felt a chill. The blue eyes, vivid with warmth just a second earlier, now shone cold and hard. A stillness had entered the lieutenant's body and he knew that this young man could kill anyone on the transport without a second's thought.

"I won't give her the satisfaction of having my hate kill her." Hawkes stroked the barrel of his rifle, sliding along the well polished metal. "I will kill her quickly and efficiently like any other enemy I'm ordered to."

"Are they all like you?" Rollins couldn't help the wide-eyed stare.

The cold soldier disappeared and, with a sad smile, Hawkes shook his head, his chestnut hair swinging free of the restraining clip. "Only a handful are like me, and _they_ don't ask questions. With them, I'm the wolf among the lions, wondering why the hell I'm different."

"I see." Rollins sat back slightly, not taking his eyes off Hawkes. "I think I would like to talk to you when all of this blows over. I have some questions."

Hawkes sighed; he'd heard that line before. "I don't know." He didn't want to anger the sergeant, but wasn't sure how to say no. After all, the sergeant was responsible for the food management in the Officers' Mess.

"Talk, Lieutenant, that's all. I'm a happily married man with three kids back home. I've never strayed from my vows. In fact if I did, I would be better off never going home; my wife has an awful temper." Rollins shook his head, chuckling dryly. "She has the nastiest left hook I've ever seen. So, even _if_ I were interested in something on the side, I wouldn't, Lieutenant. I just thought perhaps you could answer some questions I've got."

Slowly, Hawkes nodded. "Ok."

The ISSAPC's sliding door opened and Ross stepped in. "It's time. Bring her out."

****

McQueen watched as two guards escorted Seaman Belinda Peters, reduced to the lowest rank the Navy would allow, from the transport. The guards walked her over to a tree and started securing her to it while a line of men and women left the transport, M-590's in hand. Even from where he stood, McQueen picked out the form of Hawkes, moving easily with a deadliness visible in his movements.

"That boy is scary," he said quietly, tightening his arms around Silver. "If the people who created him could see him now, they'd be proud. He's the consummate soldier right now."

"Unfortunately, I think you're right, on both counts." She sighed, running her hands over the strong arms holding her.

"It's a damn good thing that this war started. It gave him the drive to become a member of the squad and to learn about becoming human. Did you know, he almost ran off during the leave they were given just before the big battle above Earth, but he wanted to get back at the people who killed his first friend." McQueen sighed. "I remember him telling me that he would never get into his Hammerhead. That he would never die for _them_."

"And what did you say?"

"I asked him who he would die for. I think the question forced him to really think things through. When he took off at a dead run, I was sure I'd never see him again, except as a prisoner in Leavenworth."

"When did you see him again?"

"When they were dragging me into the base hospital after the space battle above Earth. He was there, in the doorway, watching with wide eyes. I think it finally hit home what was at stake. I'm surprised I even remember it, I was damn near drugged insensible." He breathed in her scent, distancing himself from what was about to happen.

"Funny the things that'll leave an impression at such times." Silver squeezed his arms.

About to ask her what had done so with her, McQueen saw Ross start reading aloud from a computer pad and contented himself with hugging her tightly. He glanced over at where Peters stood bound securely to the tree. Despite everything, he had a grudging respect for the woman who refused to cry and plead for her life. Stiff and staring back at the men and women assigned to execute her, Peters gave no sign of fear.

As Ross continued speaking, Peters turned to stare at the transport McQueen and Silver stood in. Only after Ross finished speaking did she return her gaze to the proceedings. She shook her head and stood straight.

McQueen watched the execution squad raise their rifles and take aim. The sound of the seven rifles penetrated the cockpit's soundproofing. His arms tightened involuntarily as Peters sagged against the tree. From behind Ross stepped Dr. Connelly in her dress whites. She crouched beside Peters and, after a quick examination, rose, spoke and gestured toward the body. From the transport, two privates wheeled a gurney. Soon the body was taken from sight.

As the execution squad started toward their transport, Ross beckoned Hawkes over to him. He talked and gestured to where the other transport sat.

"Guess that's my cue, love." Silver turned around in his arms. "See you up there, Ty. Don't take too long, but you do need to talk to him."

McQueen cleared his throat. "Well, I've sort of changed my mind about this. How about you fly and I talk to Hawkes in back?" He paused and finished. "That way I'm not distracted by flying."

She raised an eyebrow. "Will that be private enough?"

"Yes. I need to concentrate on him, not divide my attention." He smoothed back her hair with a small smile. "How's that for being responsible?"

"Very good, love. All right. Let Glen know the change of plans. I'll start my pre-flight checks. Lift off in ten mikes. Now, out." She pushed him toward the cockpit door.

"Yes, ma'am." McQueen ducked out the door and shut it behind him. He strode over to the side door, wrestling it open and surprising Hawkes who was just reaching the transport. "In, Hawkes," McQueen ordered as he jumped down.

"Sir? What are you-"

"Sit down somewhere. Back in a mike."

McQueen jogged over to where Ross still stood.

"I thought-"

"A slight change of plans, Glen. She's going to fly while I talk."

Ross nodded. "Very well. See you later."

"Tonight? Dinner?"

"Eighteen hundred, like usual."

"We'll be there. Thanks, Glen."

"Better get going, Ty."

With a nod, McQueen trotted back to the transport. He slammed the door shut behind him, insuring that it locked before going to the cockpit door and smacking it twice, letting Silver know the ship was secure.

Walking down the aisle to where Hawkes sat on a bunk, chewing his lower lip, McQueen wiped his sweating palms on his flight suit, wondering how the hell he was going to find the right words. Even after all the time he had spent thinking about it, he still did not know what to say. Sitting down on the same bunk, McQueen leaning his back against the post and turned so he faced the young man.

"Hawkes, we need to talk."

"Sir?"

The wide-eyed anxiety made McQueen shake his head. "It's not something you've done, Hawkes. It's something I did."

"What could you have done wrong?"

"I'm human, Hawkes. I make mistakes. Sometimes really bad ones. And the reason _why_ I allowed our last little get together was definitely in that category."

"I shouldn't have pushed, sir. It was my fault."

"Not completely, Hawkes. I could have discouraged you, but I didn't. It's not something we should indulge in on the 'Toga. Too risky."

"It was wrong then."

"The act, no, but why I allowed it, yes. Silver's been good enough to explain away my actions, but I can't." Seeing Hawkes' curious look, McQueen forced himself to continue. "She admits that she drank me down too far, making me susceptible to impulses I normally wouldn't give into, such as taking advantage of you. That I certainly did. It's hard to admit it, but I was jealous of the trio. A part of me still wants to be the only one that she turns to, but I know, in my head anyway, that can't be the case."

"I don't see why it should be a problem, sir. Why are you telling me this?" Hawkes shook his head, eyes narrowed slightly.

"Hawkes... Coop, when you're with someone, when you're making love to someone, you should be focused on that person, not on someone else. It's dishonest and it demeans both of you. It's a bad habit to get into." McQueen stiffened his back against the post. "I used you as a handy outlet for my anger, jealousy, and hurt. It's a good thing I didn't hurt you physically."

"You would never hurt me! Or Silver!"

"I'm glad you think so." McQueen rubbed his hand on his thigh, wishing this was over. "I can't rule the possibility out, especially considering my early life."

"Have you... have you ever meant to hurt someone? And done it?"

McQueen nodded curtly, both hands running down his thighs. The phantom pistol grip returned, making him swallow the rising bile and turn his eyes from Hawkes' in shame. Pleading brown eyes, a cool mocking voice, the pistol fitting easily into his hand... With a deep breath, McQueen forced the memory back into its mental compartment. This was not the time or place to deal with that particular memory. Turning back, he saw that Hawkes waited for more.

"I killed a man," he admitted. When Hawkes started to speak, he waved a hand brusquely, saying, "Leave it, Hawkes. It's not your concern."

As Hawkes opened his mouth, Silver's voice came over the intercom. "Hate to interrupt, but we're landing. Atmosphere in two mikes."

Hawkes blurted out his question anyway. "Was it self-defense?" He shrank from the cold, haunted look in McQueen's eyes.

Silent, McQueen rose and stood before a port hole, feeling the vibration from the engines cease beneath his feet. The harsh lights of the landing pad briefly illuminated his profile, lips drawn tight and features bleak. Even as a slight jolt announced their landing, he murmured, "No."

The cockpit door slammed open and Silver jumped down the steps, landing lightly and going straight to her husband. "Whatever it is, later. We have a reception waiting outside."

Biting back a groan, McQueen closed his eyes, concentrating on forcing everything into the background, temporarily. He knew she was going to get to the bottom of what currently bothered him, most likely that very night. Unless he could manage to put it behind him before then.

The landing pad elevator shuddered to a halt. McQueen gave Silver a kiss on the cheek. "Come on. Let's show them we're ok."

"Are we?" Her eyes searched his.

He nodded. "Yes. I just remembered something I rather I didn't. That's all. Nothing to fret about."

"If you say so."

"I do." Walking over to the door, McQueen unlocked it and slid it open. "Come on. Let's go home."

"Some home. A hunk of metal floating in space." Silver shook her head and followed him, resting her hand on his lower back. "Looks like we were missed though."

The 58th squadron crowded the doorway leading into the landing pad, most of the faces solemn.

"Someone die?" muttered Silver.

McQueen gave her a wry smile. "Yeah."

Her answering smile held a touch of sadness, echoed in her eyes. "Come on. I think, tonight, we'll all have some drinks."

"Sounds good." He started down the ramp, his hand on her elbow.

As if their descent was a cue, most of the 58th burst into a jog to slide to a halt and assume position at the foot of the ramp. Both Leon and Monty remained in the doorway. Vansen gave Hawkes a glare, though she remained silent, and McQueen puzzled over it for a few seconds until he remembered that no one had known who comprised the execution squad until that morning. No wonder she was miffed. Hawkes most likely had been unable to inform her of his leaving.

Damphousse spoke first. "Welcome back, colonels. Everything all right?"

"Yes." McQueen nodded and turned to Vansen. "Captain, after our nightly exercises, I believe I will buy a round at the Tunn."

"Yes, sir."

"And I'll buy the second," Silver stated, standing before West. "After that, I think we all need to talk things out." Her eyes went to Leon and Monty, the sergeant obviously keeping Leon from bolting.

West checked over his shoulder to see what she was looking at and sighed. "I think you're right. We told him about you and he's been having a hard time dealing with it. Worse than Shane even."

"Hey, I wasn't that bad!" Vansen saw the incredulous looks the rest threw her and faltered. "Was I?"

"Is this the same woman who refused to talk about it for nearly eighty hours?" Damphousse smiled. "And then even after seeing the proof that not all of it was a lie, still refused to talk about it for another eighty hours?"

"Oh, ah, yeah." Vansen reddened. "Forgot about that."

"Well, we haven't." West slapped her on the arm. "Don't worry. We won't let you forget it either."

"That's what I'm afraid of," groaned Vansen.

The door shutting behind Monty and Leon attracted McQueen's attention. He frowned as Monty hit the open switch and nothing happened. The faint red light shining through the viewing panes sent alarms through him.

His voice cut through the chatter. "In the transport! Everyone! Silver, get Monty and Leon. Vansen, contact the bridge."

Heads swiveled around, spotted the red light and understanding blossomed around him. Feet pounded up the ramp even as voices wondered how the hell the safety had been overridden.

At the head of the ramp, McQueen turned to watch as Silver grabbed both of the newcomers by the arms and dragged them around toward the transport. The men broke into a run and she followed. Watching, McQueen accepted an air mask from West, keeping a hand on the door, ready to slam it shut the second the three were aboard. West, holding three more masks, joined Hawkes who stood prepared to drag someone through the door if necessary.

Monty stumbled, his chest heaving as he struggled to breathe the vanishing air. Even as Leon sprinted past McQueen, Silver reached down, wrapped her arm around Monty's chest and lifted him from the deck. Hefting the sergeant over her shoulder in a fireman's carry, Silver raced for the door and safety.

As West and Hawkes yanked the two into the transport, McQueen slammed and locked the door.

By the LIDAR/radio console, Damphousse spoke, her voice sounding tinny in the thin air. "We'll have a decent supply of air in a few mikes. Just keep the masks on for now."

"Sir, how the hell could this have happened?" West knelt beside Monty, holding a mask to the panting man's face. "It couldn't have been an accident."

"It wasn't." From the bunk where he had taken a seat, Wang said, "It's just one more so-called accident that's happened in the last three months."

"How do you know?" Hawkes spun around.

"Because I brought it to the attention of the commodore. People talk when they don't think you're all there, even if it's not your brain that isn't working right." Wang's mouth twisted bitterly. "Too many accidents have been occurring. No one's been killed or seriously injured, but I think this is the worse one yet."

"Great. That's all we needed." Hawkes threw his hands up in the air and stalked to the rear of the transport.

Over the intercom, Vansen spoke. "Bridge has notified the maintenance crews. It'll be a while before they can get to us. They'll have to figure out what happened first."

Silver shook her head. "Well, good thing there's food left over."

As Silver approached the LIDAR station, Damphousse kept an eye on the air gauges. "I wondered what those baskets were for. Ok, the air's up to a breathable density." She removed her mask and set it on the console.

Silver dragged two baskets out before removing her air mask and setting it down next to Damphousse's. "There's cold cuts in this one and apples in this one."

K-bars were put to use and soon everyone had something to eat. West handed water packets around before settling on a bunk.

Sprawled out on a bunk, Hawkes asked, "So, what do we do until they get around to springing us?"

McQueen looked at where Leon sat at the far end of the transport, hunched up and eying everyone suspiciously. "Leon, come down here so I can talk to you."

Leon's steps were slow and reluctant, but he obeyed, sitting across from McQueen, sharing a bunk with West, keeping his distance. "What about, sir?"

"Why were you so eager to pick a fight with Hawkes?" When he saw Leon's mouth tighten, McQueen said, "Honestly, Leon. I need to understand if we're going to work together successfully."

Leon stared at McQueen for a long moment before saying, "They were hiding something from me. I figured he was the weakest link. So I kept baiting him, hoping he would let something slip."

"From now on, just ask. There won't be any more secrets." McQueen gave the squadron a stern look, pleased to see everyone nod. "Now, for the ringer, Leon. You've been told what Silver is. What do you think?" McQueen put the last piece of his apple in his mouth and waited.

"I think you're all fucking nuts!"

"It's an honest response at least." McQueen nodded once. "Leon, what bothers you about the idea? The fact that vampires exist or the fact that we hid it from you?"

A shudder coursed through Leon even as he glared defiantly at the men and women around him.

"Leon, if it will help, nothing you say will be held against you. I'm asking because I need to know if I should arrange a transfer or not. I don't want to." McQueen's mouth tightened briefly. "I owe it to Anton to take care of you. It's what he would have wanted."

Leon's posture loosened and he stared down at his hands, clasped together in his lap. When he spoke at last, his voice was low. "If... if vampires are real, then what else is?"

"Ty?" Silver waited until McQueen nodded before continuing to speak. "Leon, my people have wondered about that too. Take werewolves. If someone saw me change into my four footed form, they'd say I was a werewolf. So maybe that's where the legend came from. Someone seeing something they shouldn't and telling others. And like all good scary tales, it grew and spread. Just like the vampire story. Look at me, Leon."

Slowly Leon obeyed.

"Have I ever done anything that would even suggest that I'm like the legend you're so scared of?"

Leon's head shook side to side, his eyes locking on hers. "They said that Terrilli... that he was...."

She sighed. "Yes, Anton was a Remal. He was also a good man who cared for you and the others a lot. Look, Leon, just like with Shane, I'm not going to try to make you into a Remal. It has to be of your own free will and something you want to do. Only a vampire like the legends takes without permission. I only take from those willing to give."

Licking his lips, Leon admitted, "You never gave any hint of being a vampire. When you and Terrilli-" Snapping his mouth shut and glancing at McQueen, Leon's face turned stony.

McQueen managed a slight smile. "I know all about it, Leon. They were exchanging Blood. It's usually accompanied by sex." When Leon looked slightly taken aback, McQueen shook his head. "There are no personal secrets between my wife and me."

"Sir, if I may?" Vansen looked up from the front of the transport. When she got a nod from McQueen, she said, "Look, Leon. I know you were pissed that we kept Silver's secret from you, but we, as a whole, keep Silver's secret from others. Even me and I have no intention of ever becoming a Remal. What others choose to do is fine, so long as the secret stays in the squad."

"Can you live with what you know, Leon?" McQueen leaned forward slightly. "Can we trust you to tell no one, even if you transfer out?"

Slowly, Leon looked each member of the squad in the face, ending with Monty who gave him a half smile. "You willing to go along with this?"

"Yes. I like to believe that I am open to possibilities. I'm not going to become one of these Remal, but I'm of the mind that the advantages outweigh the disadvantages." Monty leaned forward. "How many times have we wished that someone could scout terrain effectively? Could find fresh meat or water? Wished that we could heal faster after a bad injury? She can do all that, Leon. All she asks is your silence."

Biting his lower lip, Leon faced Silver. "Just my keeping quiet? That's all you want?"

"Your word on it, Leon, is all I need. No coercion on my part or anyone here. It's your decision."

"All right. Mum's the word about you." Leon shivered, a scared look momentarily entering his eyes.

"I think it's been heard and recognized," muttered Silver.

"What... what just happened?" asked Damphousse.

"Hakur and Jalke just sealed Leon's oath." Silver shook her head slightly. "Sorry, Leon. If I'd known they'd be listening, I'd have phrased it differently."

"Who's this Hakur and Jalke?" Leon started glancing around frantically.

"Relax, Leon." Monty rose and stood beside Leon, putting his hands on the man's shoulders. "From what I've gathered, they're a bit like angels. With similar powers. So my advice is, don't break the oath. Remember your Old Testament, lad."

When Leon started to look panicked, McQueen said, "Leon, don't worry. As long as you keep your word, nothing will happen and, frankly, that's all they're interested in. They won't meddle in anything else."

The radio squawked to life. "'Toga Control to Lunar Lander." Lt. Crowe's voice spoke.

McQueen nodded to Damphousse. She grabbed the handset and activated it. "Lunar Lander to 'Toga Control."

"Is everyone all right?"

"Yes."

"Good. Williams and his crew are working on the problem, but he says it could be four to five hours before air will be restored to the bay. So he recommends you relax and take it easy."

"Will do."

"'Toga Control out."

As 'Phousse put the handset back, McQueen stood up, saying, "Sounds like a plan to me. I think I'll take a catnap."

Silver vacated the seat she had on a lower bunk as he approached and climbed up into the upper bunk. "Same here." She disappeared from view.

Before sitting on the lower bunk, McQueen said, "We're on our way back to the 15th Fleet and we don't know what we'll be handling when we get back there. I'd rather we were over-rested than underslept in case the Chigs decide to pay a visit."

McQueen settled down and listened. One by one, he heard the squad stretch out, the bunks squeaking under the weight. Long after the others, a final member succumbed. Closing his eyes, McQueen steadied his breathing and stilled his thoughts. Warmth suffused him and he smiled, returning the feeling back to Silver. A hug would have been better, but this would do. He felt sleep on the edge of his consciousness and let it steal over him.

****

McQueen wolfed down his food, untasted, as he listened to Williams talk. The man had long since passed his own, not inconsequential, hard earned, engineering knowledge, mostly in the area of the Hammerhead, but McQueen had tuned out the words in order to listen to underlying tone of voice which worried him. Both worry and anger warred beneath the surface, making him wonder who Williams was angry at. Williams looked exhausted with his red-rimmed eyes and haggard features, giving him the appearance of a man on the verge of collapse.

The tightening of Williams' mouth warned McQueen and he tuned back into the words, catching the amused look Silver threw his way.

"-which leads me to an unhappy conclusion, Commodore, Colonels." Williams sighed, rubbed his hand over his face and looked at the three people sitting with him in the Officers' Mess. "I came to my conclusion ten days ago, but things, well, you were busy with other things."

Setting down his coffee mug, Ross said, "What did you conclude, Williams?" He glanced around the nearly empty room, already knowing what Williams would say.

Voice low, Williams said, "We have a saboteur aboard." Williams gave them each a sharp look. "I'm only stating what we all now know to be true. After all, there is no reason that work that has been checked, double checked, and in some cases, triple checked by two different people should suddenly malfunction. Today was merely the most serious in a string of cases." He shook his head. "I kept telling myself it was just coincidence or miscommunication or some damn thing. Today, today, some one could have died."

"How many backups are there for the system?" Silver stopped eating her vegetable beef soup.

"Four. All of them failed. Do you know the odds on that happening? All four backups failing in exactly the same way?" Williams seized his coffee mug and grimaced as he squeezed it. "Someone deliberately messed around with the systems."

"Do you have any suspects?" Ross leaned forward slightly.

Frowning, Williams shook his head. "No one. Everyone. The only person I'm absolutely sure of is myself, but I can't do all the work alone. I have to have others work on the ship. There's still a lot to do."

"What exactly?" Sipping his cold coffee, Ross frowned and set the mug down impatiently.

"We had to stop working on the port laser batteries after the last battle. We only just finished the last of that damage this week." Scrubbing his face with a hand again, Williams sighed. "I can't do it all myself. I have to trust someone. Johnson, him I can trust, but who else? The work needs to be done. I'm running the both of us into the ground by going back over work that's already been done. The work crews are understandably getting touchy and irritable at the lack of trust. What else can I do?"

"I assume you've done checks on the people working the affected areas."

Affronted, Williams started to speak and snapped his mouth closed with an obvious effort. "Of course, I have," he said a moment later. "No one person or even pair of people worked in every area that's had problems. This goes back before Dicte, even. Johnson and I have gone over the repair log books for the last year. Minor things that mostly were never reported to you, Commodore, since they were deemed to be just malfunctions. It's just gotten much worse since Dicte. Whoever it is is decidedly unhappy about the overhaul and the job we're doing on the old girl."

"It's not an AI." McQueen knew all the models of the intelligent machines and none of them could have operated on the ship for a year without being spotted.

"No, our culprit is human, not machine." Williams grimaced. "A disguised silicate was my first thought, so I rigged some sensors around the ship, including some pretty remote areas. No machines passed anywhere near my sensors in a week's worth of running. It doesn't have to be someone on my teams, just someone who has enough knowledge to do damage and make it look good. Any one can look at the majority of the ship's specs and figure out how to muck things up. It looks like they started small, little malfunctions that were reasonable and fairly easy to do. They've been gradually increasing their knowledge, perhaps by working on the engineering teams enough to gain some real familiarity with the systems. Now they're ready for some serious damage. And they don't seem to care who they kill."

Johnson entered the room, looking equally exhausted. "Sir, we've finished analyzing our findings. It's like I figured. It was set to go when the next transport landed. It could have been the commodore's ship, a visiting general's, the colonels' or a supply ship." Johnson held out a computer pad to Williams with a shaking arm.

Taking it, Williams said, "Go eat, Ed, then hit the sack. There's nothing more we can do right now."

"Thank you, sir." Johnson headed for the exit.

"Where do you think you're going?" Williams jumped to his feet. "There's food right here."

Johnson turned around and said quietly, "The Enlisted Mess, sir. I'm not an officer."

"Tell the cook you're my guest, Johnson." Holding Johnson with his eyes, Ross said, "I want you to eat as much as you can before going to your quarters."

"Thank you, sir."

Looking at Williams, Ross asked, "And when was the last time you ate, Williams? You certainly haven't eaten while we've been here."

"Depends on how you wish to define eating? I grab a sandwich here and there. Drink lots of coffee or what passes as it on board." Williams shrugged. "I get by."

"That's why you look like death warmed over, I suppose. Getting by." Ross stared at the man. "Go get yourself some food, man, and go to bed. We can talk about this later. The pair of you need some serious rest. I don't want to see you out of your quarters before 0600 tomorrow. Same with Johnson. We'll meet in my office at 0900."

For a moment, Williams glared at Ross, clearly about to protest, leaning forward over belligerantly. Slumping back into his seat, he nodded. "You're right. I'm clearly not thinking straight." He rose, grabbed his coffee mug and said, "Til tomorrow, Commodore. 0900."

"You two finished eating?" Ross asked, giving Williams' back an anxious look.

Nodding, Silver set her empty bowl on the tray and reached over to take McQueen's nearly empty plate. He quickly rescued the two pickle slices and stood up.

"Let's go to my office and talk."

****

"You didn't seem surprised when Williams mentioned a saboteur." Ross looked at the two colonels from across his desk and shook his head. "Wang, right?"

McQueen nodded. "He told us while we were on the transport, waiting."

"So you've had some time to think about it. What do you think?"

"Just like they've both said, we've got a saboteur aboard ship." McQueen frowned. "I'm not happy about the idea, but it all adds up."

"What sorts of incidents are we looking at?" Silver handed both men their scotches before sitting down. "Wang didn't go into details."

"Remember the elevator that dropped three decks before the secondary brake system stopped it?" Ross shivered, remembering the incident as the two nodded. The 79th squadron had been in the elevator when the brakes had failed. "Fortunately, the injuries were light, mostly bruises. It could have been a lot worse. Another one was Port Laser Battery Two. We just assumed it had been blown out by the enemy. Turns out a 'faulty' connection was the culprit. Shall I keep going?"

McQueen shook his head. "I get the picture. So, what can we do about it? I take it, you've already talked with Watson?"

"Yes." Ross sipped his scotch before continuing. "He and I have talked about it. He's putting cameras anywhere he thinks it's useful, but it's going to take luck to find our saboteur. Cross-referencing everyone who's still aboard after this last year leaves us with over two thousand suspects. Some of which are naturally excluded from the list." He nodded to McQueen and Silver. "So, it's going to take time for him to first make sure of his own officers before he can start on the rest."

"What's his plan? In case, no one is caught on camera?" McQueen idly swirled his scotch, watching his friend. "The detector?"

"If he has to, yes." Ross sighed. "He's not crazy about it, but we're running against time. Next time, people may die."

"I know." McQueen sighed. "Look, if he thinks it will help, I'll take it as well."

Ross shook his head. "A nice gesture, Ty, but he doesn't want anyone knowing about the testing if he does it. That way, our saboteur doesn't escalate the proceedings or target specific people."

"I can see that."

After a moment, Ross set his drink down. "As you know, we're on the way back to the rest of the fleet. You also mentioned to me a while ago that you wanted to do more ground work with the squadron. Well, several mission briefings have been sent. The first one is a doozy. It's going to take a minimum of six squadrons, on the ground."

"Are you asking if we want to be one?" McQueen glanced at Silver who nodded.

"Yes."

"Then yes. We need a good operation as an unit."

"You've got it. Brass figures that it'll take at least a week. You'll get the briefing on it in two days." Ross sighed. "It's going to be tough, Ty, but that's what you want right now, isn't it?"

McQueen nodded once. "We need it and the squad needs it. Tellus... we were all there, but not working together. With two new members, we need the chance to work together and become a cohesive whole again. Or find out that we can't."

"So be it."

"Ty, are we going to do our evening exercises tonight?" Silver finished her scotch and rose.

"Yes. It'll do us all some good."

She set her tumbler down on the bar. "Then I'm done drinking for now. I'll go let the troops know we're still on."

"Thanks."

She leaned over McQueen and kissed him on the forehead. "Don't be too long. We still have time to finish some paperwork before dinner."

"Slave driver."

"But you love it. My office?"

"Yes."

Once she had gone, McQueen smiled, shook his head, and finished off his scotch. "Glen, I might have to transfer Lieutenant Leon out. I'll know after the mission. He's not taking the news that she's a vampire well at all. Worse than Vansen in fact."

"You expected him to?" Ross grimaced. "Damn, Ty, but you expect a lot. Give the man a chance. It's a bit much to spring on a fellow who has no expectations of it."

"You took it well as I recall."

"Well, I've always wanted there to be other life out there. Besides the Chigs. And as other life goes, hers is damn good."

"Let's just hope we never meet the bad guys, Glen."

"Definitely."

"I better go. See you tonight in the gym?"

Ross glared at his scotch and nodded. "I need to keep in shape, especially if I'm going to be coordinating things more. Damn, but I've come to rely on you two far too much."

"You're just as good, Glen. It'll be good for you to exercise your brain." McQueen grinned. "See you later."

Watching his friend leave, Ross sighed. He finished his scotch, frowned, and rose. "Damn the woman, but she's right about the paperwork."


End file.
